Young Again: The Rewrite
by Taliath
Summary: PostHBP. When all hope seems lost and everybody is dead, Harry transports his soul into the body of his one year old self. This time, he's going to try and set things right.
1. PRO: An End, and A Beginning

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**Young Again: The Rewrite **

_by Taliath _

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**Author's Note:**

I'm taking over the writing of this fic from Muhjaa-ness, who thought up the idea of Harry and McGonagall travelling back in time to just before Halloween. It is my hope that you'll enjoy what I envision for this story. Oh, and yes, I do have the author's permission to continue this. (You can find the original version in my Favorite Authors and Favorite Stories links.)

As for the Disclaimer: I own nothing written in this fiction. All of this is copyrighted and owned by J.K. Rowling.

Please remember that this story has Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince spoilers, so if you have not read the official fifth and sixth Harry Potter books, I recommend you go read them _first!_ Also, be forewarned that there is some _mild_ cursing within the story. Furthermore, there will be quite graphic description in this story. You have been warned. If you are offended by swear words, vivid descriptions of violent events, or just plain anything... please leave now!

If you have any question or comments, please post it in a review, or you may email me. It's _always_ a joy to read about what my readers think! Reviews will always be welcome!

Enjoy!

**Summary:**

When all hope seems lost and everybody is dead, Harry transports his soul into the body of his one year old self. This time, he's going to try and set things right.

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**_Prologue:_**** An End, and A Beginning**

Harry Potter and Minerva McGonagall sprinted down a long hallway in Hogwarts, spinning around every now and then to strike back at their pursuers; they had quickly learned that shooting spells blindly behind them while running at the same time very rapidly drained them of their strength. The torches on the walls provided naught but a small, feeble light, but it was enough, as the bright flares of magic illuminated the way.

Feeling a host of spells spiralling after him at his back, Harry dropped to one knee and turned, swinging his wand in a wide arc that deflected half a dozen spells, and was relieved when two or three curses that resisted his deflection—_bloody unstoppable Unforgivables_, Harry deduced—flew harmlessly over his head.

Stone rumbled, twisted and churned, as the gargoyles hidden in small niches came to life at Minerva's command with silent roars that Harry heard not with his ears, but with his magical senses. The ground trembled as the gargoyles thundered across the hallways at the Death Eaters, the very corridor shaking as the stone guardians ruthlessly tore into the enemy.

"Come, Harry," Minerva said quickly. "We must hurry. Hopefully this will slow them. But we must still hurry." She was breathing hard, and wisps of her hair hung out of its usually tight bun, but the intense light that was shining in her eyes still commanded strength.

Harry nodded tightly, and added contributions of his own to slow down their enemies now that he had a few precious moments to stand still and concentrate — a few purposeful flicks of his wand drawing wards and barriers, a few hurried taps producing hidden traps set to go off within minutes. "Let's go."

And go they did, running further down the hallways, until Minerva waved at a gargoyle up ahead, and it sprang out of their way as they rushed through. "My office," she said hurriedly, as the gargoyle sealed the entrance once more. "Go up to my office; I will seal this entrance as best as I can."

But Harry was already jogging up the stairway, carefully poking his wand here and there to place more traps for the enemy. He heard Minerva powering up the ancient locking seals that had been invoked only three times since they were laid down — once when Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff held off Slytherin's advances, the second in 1892 when Headmaster Borglois locked himself in after finding out the Ministry's plans to arrest him, and finally when Dumbledore had vacated the position for a short while during Harry's fifth year—and felt a powerful surge of magic as they snapped into place. _That should protect us for a little bit. Of course, with the inner circle after us, who knows how long any spells—or gargoyles, for that matter—will hold?_

Roughly pushing that dismal thought away, Harry began spinning his own locking spells and seals, weaving them together so that they were interconnected and thus harder to break—though he purposefully left an opening in the mess of threads for the Headmistress. Already, there was a mass of threads lit just above his wand, a tangle of different coloured lights that defied imagination, and Harry struggled to add more and keep the opening from closing up. _One more, just one. What's bloody taking her so long?_ "Minerva! I can't keep my wards from setting much longer!" But he needn't have wasted his breath, as she sprinted past him seconds later, allowing him to carefully spread the tangle across the doorway and fuse it.

Harry sighed in relief. "The gargoyle and this ward should hold up for at least an hour, I hope—actually, probably less than that. But it should give us some time. Enough, I think, for us to recuperate for our last stand, Minerva." He turned to sit on one of the couches, already feeling an emptiness within him, a sure sign of magical fatigue — and so he was surprised to find that Minerva was not already resting, but was instead digging hurriedly, though with a strange slowness that Harry knew was because of her weariness, through a once-hidden backroom that held boxes and crates. _What are in those boxes?_ "Minerva? What are you doing? What are you looking for?" She didn't answer.

With a frown, Harry peered over her back, trying to understand what exactly she was doing. _Has she gone mad? Why is she tiring herself out like this? What could she possibly be looking for? We should be preparing for our last stand. _Already, he could feel a stirring in the air, a tension filled with magic; the ancient seals on the gargoyle were being hacked apart—there was a heaviness that stank of Dark magic pounding unceasingly against them. The very torches that lit the Headmistress's office grew dimmer and dimmer as that sentient being called Hogwarts weakened further.

Minerva hissed in annoyance and stabbed her wand in the air, and to Harry's surprise, a high-pitched whine pierced his ears as the once-empty space before her rippled. _Ah, invisibility wards. Perhaps illusions._

"Nicolas must have placed this invisibility ward last week, when he came to check on it," Minerva said. She shook her head wearily. "Perhaps this is what he wanted to tell me when – " Abruptly, she cut off; Harry understood why. It was just so painful to remember all those who had died.

_Cedric, Sirius, Albus, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Nicolas…. _The list went on, and on, and on.

"What exactly is this room for?" Harry asked gently, steering her thoughts away from those dark memories. "What's in it, Minerva?" He pointed to the backroom.

"It is a project," Minerva said, a deep weariness echoing in her voice, "that I undertook with Albus, and later with Nicolas and Hermione, since Lord Voldemort's return." She moved her wand in complex designs filled with sharp twists and turns, as though drawing invisible runes, and the rippling ceased, taking away the illusions with it. The boxes and crates disappeared, and in the once-crowded backroom stood a single altar, with an orb drifting in slow circles above it. She sighed. "Do you recall, Harry, Project Overlord?"

He struggled to remember, searching and scanning through his memories as he had been taught, and nodded hesitantly. "You mean that failed project? The one that Hermione told the Order had failed?" His thoughts whirled around him and his eyes widened. "Wait, are you telling me that _that_ is — ?"

"Yes," said Minerva. "This is Overlord, and yes, contrary to Hermione's report, it was a complete success." Minerva walked reverently to it, and Harry followed at her silent command. "Overlord, Harry, was to be our last resort."

"I know," said Harry. "It was supposed to be the final weapon against Voldemort should everything fail, right? To be used when we had no other choice? So, er, how's it supposed to work? Like a nuclear bomb, or something? I always thought it would be something like that, a massive nuclear bomb to wipe everything out. It _is_ some sort of massive bomb, isn't it? It'll destroy everything, won't it?"

Minerva softly continued, as if he had not spoken. "We named it after the Muggles' Operation Overlord, when they stormed the beaches of Normandy and ultimately changed the tide of the war to their victory. This was to be the same. To do something drastic, to do something irreversible—as the Muggles did. To turn the ride of our war to victory, not defeat—as the Muggles did. This _is_ the same."

As they approached, soft whips of blue light sprang from the floor and Minerva quickly jabbed her wand, forcing the light to wink out and allow shadows to fill the room once again. There were no torches, Harry saw, and the illumination from the office was nearly nonexistent. In fact, as Harry looked back into the office, he saw that the softly glowing torches were barely lit and still dying. Hogwarts was nearly dead.

"What is it, then? What does it do?"

"We spread false word of its failure to the Order," she continued once more, apparently not hearing his question, "not to destroy all hope, but to feed the information to the Dark Lord. Nicolas and Hermione, and I, decided to keep this weapon hidden, to keep it under the deepest wraps. And we succeeded. Everyone eventually found out of its supposed failure, and Voldemort never searched for it."

"_What is it?_" Harry asked, exasperated.

Minerva turned, and pinned him with a look of utmost intensity. "This is our freedom, Harry. This is our last resort. It sends people back into the past, but not just hours. But it doesn't send them in a body. That wouldn't work—being sent in a physical body—because a paradox would be created when we changed things. And we must avoid the paradox at all costs—for if we did not avoid it, what would happen? Indeed, Hermione was of the opinion that the world would fall to chaos. That the very fabric of time and reality would tear apart. Myself, I do not know. However, we were all in agreement that any paradox concerning time travel had to be rid of. And thus, only our souls go back."

Harry was deeply shocked. _What?_ How could that happen? Send someone back? Send someone's _soul _back in time? "How far back?" he asked. "I mean, will it send us back before the others…?" _Die?_ Harry couldn't form the question. This hope, it just hurt too much.

"Yes, Harry. That is the beauty of it."

"But—the paradox, won't it affect what we're about to do? I mean, you said you managed to get rid of any possible paradox—but how can you be sure?" Harry asked hesitantly. He had no one, and he didn't want to have to relive watching everyone die again in real life. His nightmares reminded him enough. "I – I'm not going back just to watch ... to watch everyone I love die again."

"Harry, there's not much time left. You have to understand before we go, in case we are separated or something goes wrong. We aren't going to change what has happened. We're going to erase it and start over. Everything that has happened won't be just altered; it will never come to pass. Saving anyone won't affect the past, because they _won't have died yet._"

"But how does that prevent a paradox? That _is_ a paradox." If it were true, if this could really happen, the possibilities were endless.

"No; if your body went back, and then the other you were killed before you had a chance to go back, it would cause a paradox. But a soul is different. It consists of memories, ideas – nothing tangible. Even if the former you were killed, the soul would still develop as a ghost — well, perhaps not necessarily a ghost, but a shadow of yourself, a physical shadow of your soul—until it reached the point when you went back in time, so no paradox can be created."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden feeling deep in his gut made him turn toward the office in panic. Silence such as he had never known sprang into being, and the tiny flames that lit Minerva's office went out. There was a dull vibration that shook the whole castle and a surge of evil filled the room, and into Harry's nostrils and mouth, making him want to retch. The castle shuddered, and then quieted. A pain, a throb within his heart, told him all he needed to know.

Hogwarts was dead. She had given the last of her magic into maintaining the ancient seals on the gargoyle, and finally she had run out.

"We must hurry, Harry. When we go back, your soul will merge with the body and soul of your past self. Your minds will integrate together and become one. Now, take my hands." There were frozen tears in Minerva's eyes, and she had a determined look that refused to let out the terrible emotions that must have been twisting within her — after all, as Headmistress, the death of the castle would have affected her more. She held out her hands. "Harry."

Harry nodded quickly, and tried reaching out to her — but stumbled, as the whole office shook once more.

_BANG! _

The wards across the Headmistress's office doorway wavered, and a couple of threads snapped. Behind the murky fusion of colours, Harry saw the red glow of Voldemort's eyes. _Of course! He's the only one powerful enough to kill Hogwarts in such a short amount of time. The only _thing_ with red eyes. _A Death Eater must have informed the Dark Lord that they needed help. _Bastard!_

"Harry!"

He scrambled to his feet, and managed to clasp Minerva's hand just as he saw Voldemort swing his wand down on the wards once more, as though with a hammer, sending another painful shock throughout the office and the backroom. Again, there was a roar of noise, and energy rippling away from the wards scattered across the office, flashing in different-coloured lights as they merged and danced, colliding and bouncing away as they did.

But already Minerva was chanting a spell, and the circle of soft blue light that had whipped up previously rose again to meet the shock waves, absorbing them. Harry himself was within the circle now, and thus was safe from the attack.

The orb suddenly emitted a sharp green glare, and Minerva chanted louder. Outside the office, Voldemort's muffled scream could be heard, and the wards wavered a final time before falling. A brilliant cascade of lights flashed as the wards fell, and a symphony of rainbow-coloured webs flickered about due to the lack of an anchor. The flaring green from the orb started flickering at irregular intervals, joining the dance of lights glittering outside the backroom.

"At last, Potter, I shall have you," hissed the Dark Lord as he approached, and the stones quivered as Dark magic swathed the office and slipped into the backroom.

Minerva chanted louder. The orb started spinning crazily and a dull whine filled the air.

"Too many times have you escaped me, Harry," Voldemort said coldly. "And the time has come at last for you to meet your parents." He stepped into the room, his Death Eaters behind him.

Minerva chanted, and the orb spun.

"Your attempts are utterly worthless. Do you truly believe you have anything to offer that can best me at this stage?" The Dark Lord's scorn was most thick. He laughed. "Your efforts are not enough to stop my power!" The Dark Lord raised his wand, and Harry found it hard to breathe as the intoxicating power of the man's magic coalesced into an arrow pointed at the orb.

Harry yelled, Minerva screamed, the orb shattered, then Voldemort struck.

Magic in amounts previously unknown to the world spilled out from the tear in reality created by the shattering of the orb, and the force that directed the flow of the universe spilled into reality through this tear, making it ever larger. Voldemort's magic was deflected easily, nothing more than a fly compared to this monstrosity.

But the orb's magic hadn't yet fulfilled all of its purpose, and its once-dormant magic shot out to the two who had initiated the spell, tearing their souls from their bodies. The last of the orb's magic was used to reseal the tear in reality to — for a split second — use the magic that four powerful wizards and witches had stolen from the sun to redirect the flow of the universe. And, with the final twist, land the two souls in the precise area specified by the spell.

All of this within a split second.

To Harry, who knew nothing of what would happen, the world turned black. To Minerva, who knew of the exact details, the world turned black. And finally to Voldemort, who knew nothing as well, the world turned black.

And thus, the hands of time were turned back more than sixteen years, turned back with an orb created by four of the most brilliant minds within the century, and the world as Harry knew it was given its second chance.

Project Overlord had succeeded.

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**_To be continued…._**

_Chapter One: _The Past and the Future_ will be updated very soon, but reviews help shorten the time. So take the hint, spend a minute and _review!_ A simple, "Wonderful!" or a "Love it!" will do! Even simple messages like that inspire authors to write more! _

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**Ending Notes:**

It's been a while. I've not much to say. My three earlier attempts at fanfiction have been deleted. Real life got the way, and I've been unable to finish them. So instead of starting another one, I've decided to pick this one up from another author, and hopefully finish it.

It's been more than a year since I've written, and I find it exhilarating.

As you can see from this prologue, I have greatly changed the scene from that of the original. And while it won't always be this way, but please understand that I will make this story my own.

Read the "_To be continued…."_ section for the date of the next upload. Happy **_reviewing!_**

Comments always welcome.

_-- liath_

! Updated: 4.15.06 -oOo- Revised: 8.23.06 !

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	2. CH01: The Past, and The Future

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_Chapter One:_ The Past, and the Future

_by Taliath

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Harry felt softness wrapped around him and warmth envelope him. He could not yet hear or see, but what he could feel he very much like. Slowly, ever so slowly, he could feel himself start to focus, and disturbing noises, muffled but still loud, became painfully apparent. As he returned more and more to consciousness, he noticed how very thirsty he was, and felt a stray thought in his mind. _I want my bottle. Where is it?_ And suddenly that dreamy pleasantness dropped away sharply.

_What? _Why in the world would he want his _bottle_?

Forcing himself to steer clear from the fog that cushioned him, he swam free—and immediately all of his senses returned to him; his vision focused, his hearing sharpened, and the noisy disturbance made itself known.

"—left to get Pomfrey—" The voice was disturbingly familiar to Harry, but for the life of him he couldn't remember who it belonged to.

"Quickly, now, levitate her onto the couch already!" Her? Who was this 'her?' Was it Minerva? Panic seized Harry. _No, she's all I have left! I can't lose her! _He opened his eyes, but found that it was still too blurry for him to see much—he didn't have his glasses on. _Wait, I haven't needed my glasses for nearly a year now!_ He tried as best he could to sit up, but found his body wasn't quite behaving as it should. _What the hell is going on?_

"Careful! Be gentle about it, you don't want to drop her and give her a concussion, now do you—?"

"Wait, she seems to be waking up now—" Harry heard the groan of the Headmistress and felt relief.

"Minerva, how do you feel? Are you all right? Minerva!" Dumbledore? Could it really be? Harry tensed as he felt his whole body suddenly rise and lift, and he finally realised that the warmth surrounding him had been someone's arms.

Then he remembered.

_Project Overlord! Of course!_

It worked. _It worked_. Harry could not believe it. It _really_ worked. Here he was, small enough to be held by someone, to be carried effortlessly—_how old am I?_ Hope, a feeling he had suppressed so harshly before, welled up within his soul. _I can do it over again. I can change it all. I can start for the Horcuxes right away. I can unite the Houses. I can--_

"Out of my way! Minerva, dear, do you feel faint? Describe your fainting spell to me, quickly now." _Ah, _Harry thought, _Madam Pomfrey has arrived_.

Minerva answered with a sharp intake of breath, and Harry saw the blur that must have been her shoot up, and what must have been her head whip around to face his direction.

"James, here, take Harry." Harry felt himself be passed from one set of arms to another, and grasped belatedly that his mother had, for the first conscious time in his life, held him. And now his father was holding him. _My dad is holding me_. "Minerva, here, take a seat. What happened? You suddenly fainted."

There was another moment of silence.

"Minerva?" asked Dumbledore, and Harry saw a dark purple blur move from the edge of his vision. "Minerva, are you quite all right?" He heard the familiar noise of plastic sweet wrappers being crinkled as Dumbledore lifted a handful from what looked like a silver platter. "Sherbet lemon, perhaps?"

The Headmistress—_Transfiguration professor_, Harry corrected himself—was staring rapturously at his parents, and Harry knew exactly the turmoil that was going through her thoughts. _This is the Minerva from my time. She must have had a rougher journey than I did, probably because she was the one who initiated the spell. _Harry had to restrain himself from bursting out in laughter. _We did it! We made it!_

"Minerva, dear?" Madam Pomfrey spoke again, but this time there was a touch of hesitance, as though not knowing whether the professor would collapse at any moment. Then Harry realised that Minerva had not been looking towards Harry's parents, but to _him_. She was staring at him, and he finally figured out that she wanted a sign of his successful arrival. She wanted to know if he had made it too. _What does she expect? For me to say 'here I am?' I'm about one year old!_

Then it occurred to him. Harry winked at her.

The events had taken mere seconds. No one else saw him wink, but her face split into a smile.

"Uh… Minerva?" said James nervously, staring. Lily backed away slowly, hugging Harry tightly. They seemed rather uneasy—and Harry could understand why. It wasn't every day that the stern Transfiguration Professor smiled so brightly and with delight. It was… unusual, certainly.

Finally acknowledging Dumbledore—and blatantly ignoring Harry's parents—Minerva took a sherbet lmon from the proffered platter and sat back down. "Th-thank you," she choked out, her voice filled with emotion.

The others looked at her, concern showing on their faces. Minerva coughed and straightened, her features falling back into the teacher mode that she had preferred during her school lessons. Or, at least, that was what Harry thought happened. His eyesight was just too unfocused for him to tell with any accuracy.

"Are you sure you are all right? Perhaps you need to rest a bit in the hospital wing?" Dumbledore inquired, but at the slow shake of her head, the Headmaster shifted over to his desk. "Then let us all settle down, and begin what we had originally planned. I am glad you are all right, Minerva, but if at any time you should wish to visit the infirmary, please, do not mind us—and leave. There is not much to discuss tonight, and certainly nothing important."

_It's a meeting of the Order_, Harry quickly concluded, _and we're in the Headmaster's office_. He glanced around a circular table that had appeared in the middle of the office, but nearly hissed when he still couldn't see more than blurs. _Stupid eyes. Have my Metamorphmagus abilities manifested yet?_

Well, there was only one way to find out. Harry glared at the far wall, at a portrait too blurred yet to recognise, and reached deep within himself. Expecting to have to wrestle with his magic for control, Harry was surprised to find it uncoil calmly at his touch, and flow through his being. _Odd; my magic should not be so controlled—I mean, I'm a baby right now!_ But nevertheless, Harry felt deeply thankful as his vision began to sharpen under the tight control of his will, and the portrait of a former Headmaster—Borglois's portrait, coincidentally—became clearer.

"Harry?" said a man's deep voice, and Harry looked up to find James staring at him in concern. "Madam Pomfrey, would you please come over here?"

Dumbledore, who had been in the middle of welcoming everyone to the meeting, paused as he looked over in their direction. "Is everything all right, James?"

"I'm not sure, Professor," said James, and Harry felt slightly panicked as his father frowned at him. "Harry's eyes—they've changed."

"What do you mean?" asked Lily, alarmed, at the same moment the approaching nurse questioned, "Changed in what way? Well, speak up."

"His pupils seem smaller; the green in his eyes are brighter now." James seemed very confused. But at the raised eyebrows of those around him, whose expressions clearly said, 'so?'—though Minerva's was one of narrowed eyes of suspicion—James quickly defended himself. "I was looking right at them, and saw them _change_. It was like—"

"Magic," said Madam Pomfrey, as she stood from her previously kneeling position, finished with her examination of Harry's eyes. "It's nothing to worry about, James, and I have nothing to say except this: congratulations! Harry, it seems, is a Metamorphmagus."

"What?" exclaimed Lily, at the same time James said, "Wicked!" Harry nearly groaned. _So much for secrecy!_

"Well, so what was that change-thing? What was Harry doing?" asked Lily.

"It appears he was fixing his eyesight," replied Pomfrey, and there were several more exclamations.

"Indeed, this is cause for celebration. I believe that makes three living Metamorphmagi right now," Dumbledore said jovially, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. Harry concealed another groan, and turned his face away, closing his eyes tightly. Just what he wanted; more attention.

But Harry snapped his eyes open when he heard a _very_ familiar voice say, "James, this is amazing! Prongslet's a Metamorphmagus—think of all the pranks we can pull with him! And fixing his eyesight? That's brilliant!" _Sirius? _There he was. His godfather. And Remus, and Moody too, and as Harry finally looked around him with his now-perfect vision, he saw familiar faces, as well as faces he knew only from Moody's photo of the old Order. And better yet, they were all _alive_.

Again it came to Harry, feelings of awe and hope, of immeasurable joy. There were the Longbottoms with Neville in Alice's arms; there were the professors of Hogwarts—Flitwick and Sprout. Even Hagrid was present, and over in the corner was Mrs. Figg. _All alive._

Harry swivelled round in his father's arms.

Flitwick and Sprout caught his gaze and waved hellos in his direction. Snape, the man who had finally redeemed himself from killing Dumbledore, watched Harry too, though his face showed no mirth, just the typical scowl reserved for anyone with the name of Potter—well, if Harry really thought about it, that scowl was usually reserved for just about everyone. _Ah, but that will change. Or maybe it won't? This time travel stuff is confusing._ Peter waved and smiled at "sweet little Harry" as he cooed to him. Harry's face changed to mirror Snape's._ I'll deal with him later._

And finally his gaze landed on Minerva, and they shared a smile. A pained smile, one that showed hope and fear, sadness and joy. A shared look that, to the two of them, revealed the horrors that they had lived through, and that, to the both of them, showed the scars they had obtained during Voldemort's second rise to power.

Suddenly Harry couldn't take it anymore. He began to cry, releasing a wail that relieved him of all the terror that been a part of him for so long. _Oh God, it hurts. It hurts so much._ And he let go of all the emotions that were once bound up within him, and released them in a tidal wave that he couldn't stop. He screamed out all the anger that had never been expressed when Hermione was slaughtered, or the ache in his heart when Hagrid was beaten to death.

"James, what did you do to him?" Harry heard distantly, as Lily tried to pull Harry from his father's lap. Harry only cried harder. _My parents. Oh Merlin, my parents._ "I'm so sorry, Albus, everyone. I'll just take him outside." Harry opened his eyes and found Minerva with her own handkerchief, as she silently wiped tears from her own haunted eyes.

"Uh… Minerva? Are you all right?" James squinted at her. He must have caught her wiping away tears, Harry knew. His father looked at Lily as if asking for an explanation. Lily shrugged, turning to look at the Transfiguration professor. As she did, Harry caught sight of Remus. _Remus, Remus, you stood by my side. You took that curse for me. Why did you do that? You sacrificed your life, and it was for nothing. I still lost that battle. I still lost._

"What's wrong, Minerva?" asked Lily, but Harry only heard distantly. Instead, he reached desperately for Remus and cried harder, and Remus seemed to understand what he wanted because he intercepted Lily. "Here, Lily, give him to me. It seems he wants me."

Lily looked down at Harry, and saw that he was indeed trying to crawl out of her arms to Remus, and reluctantly let him go.

_They're alive now. They're alive. That's all that matters now. They're _alive.

"I'll go outside with him," said James, as he stood. "Why don't you stay here, Lily?—and Professor McGonagall, are you sure you're all right?" He, too, had noticed Minerva's gesture. But Harry being in Remus's arms seemed to rouse James's attention away from her, and he quickly moved towards them.

_They're worried, Remus; they're worried you're the spy leaking information to Voldemort, _Harry thought in the midst of his tears_. That's why James followed, not just because he's my father, but also because he wanted to make sure I was safe. I'm so sorry, Remus, so sorry for all the suspicion you live under. You were the most suspected of the Marauders, and yet you were, in the end, the bravest and the strongest, the most loyal._

Harry redoubled his grip on Remus. _I'm so sorry you're a werewolf. _Remus didn't deserve his lycanthropy any more than Harry deserved the scar._ I'm so sorry._

Harry nearly sighed as he began to draw in the emotions he had unleashed, and tampered down his tears. It felt so relieving to have cried like that; it felt so nice to be able to finally let go. He always had to appear the calm one, devoid of emotions in the past. He always had to stand tall in the face of destruction, in the face of mounting terror. He had always been the one people looked to, and so he had been forced, always, to be strong. So it was like a dam had finally broken inside him, and all his emotions had run wild. Yes, he was happy to see his parents, but he wasn't going to let go of his best friend, his mentor, and the closest connection he had to his father for the past two years.

James produced a stuffed toy griffin when they finally left the office, which Harry promptly ignored.

"The poor little tyke; he must be so tired. It is getting rather late." Remus started rocking Harry in his arms as best he could with Harry clinging to his neck. "Have you looked into getting a babysitter yet, James? Otherwise you're going to have to bring him to every Order meeting, and that's not good for a toddler who needs so much rest. Though, I suppose it's risky looking for a babysitter, especially in these times." The man sighed.

Harry let himself sniffle for a minute more until he had his emotions back under control, then quieted down, loosening his hold on Remus. The man held him tenderly out for James to take. "Do you think he's going to stay quiet?" Remus asked.

"Let's hope so; maybe he'll even go to sleep." Harry, really wanting to go back in now and know what was going on in the Order meeting, feigned a big yawn before closing his eyes and snuggling up to his father. "I wonder what set him off like that?"

Remus shrugged, though he had a small smile on his face at Harry's actions. "Maybe Sirius's outburst scared him?" He shrugged again. "No clue. But we really should head in now." And so they did, James carefully handing a 'sleeping' Harry to Lily when they got near.

"Is everything all right then, James?" asked the Headmaster.

James nodded. "Yeah, not too sure what set him off, but he's sleeping now."

"Excellent, excellent." Dumbledore smiled. "Such innocence. I only hope he will never have to experience the true meaning of war. Now, let us continue in our previous discussion, for we have but a little left on the agenda."

The discussion continued for another hour and Harry felt himself really getting tired. _Stupid baby-body_. It seemed that there had been a small period of silence from Voldemort at the present moment, and the Order was sure that something big was going to happen. Silences nearly always did mean the calm before a storm, and doubly so as tomorrow would be Halloween—the time of darkest night, when the strength of Dark magic was at its strongest, and the night when Voldemort had annually enacted vile and horrible atrocities in order to celebrate. Everyone was to be ready and alert, to be prepared to spring into battle when necessary. _When_, not _if_, it seemed.

Finally, the meeting came to an end.

"Well, if you need any help with setting up for Halloween tomorrow, just send an Order message to us," Lily put in. "We haven't visited Hogwarts in ages except for these meetings, and it does get a little lonely under the Fidelius all the time." She smiled, not noticing the boy that had been put in her lap tensed at the word Fidelius. _Idiot, _Harry called himself, _you should have known! It's Halloween tomorrow, did you already forget what happened on Halloween?_

Harry quickly turned to send a silent message to Minerva, but it seemed she had also recognised the importance of that day.

"Yeah, tell me about it," said Frank Longbottom. "I know the Fidelius is what keeps our children safe, but it does rather limit our… recreational... activities."

"Lily, how old is Harry, exactly?" cut in Minerva, before Lily or James could respond to Frank.

"Fifteen months tomorrow," Lily replied, raising an eyebrow in Minerva's direction. Minerva paled, as did Harry. Lily didn't notice and instead rose to leave. "Oh, and Frank, I completely understand. But it is, after all, the spell that helps keep our children alive so that one of them can someday end the need for it." _No, no, no! The Fidelius_ _is cast, it's Halloween tomorrow, and I'm fifteen months old!_

Frank chuckled, but it was darkly. "Yeah, our children. It's really weird, isn't it? To think that either Harry or Neville will have the power to destroy that monster?" The two families, the Longbottoms and the Potters, turned to leave as a group, ahead of the other Order members who were in various places around the Headmaster's enlarged office. _No, Minerva, do something! We can_not _allow this to happen again!_

"Wait!" Minerva said quickly. Lily turned curiously at the urgency and slight panic in Minerva's voice. Harry nearly sighed in relief.

"Yes?"

Minerva seemed to hesitate, not knowing what exactly to say. Now everyone was looking at her worriedly, curious as to what was wrong. Minerva had an idea.

"The Order of the Phoenix is one of the last defences against Voldemort that isn't corrupt or infiltrated by spies. There's been a bit of… doubt, lately, as to where some peoples' loyalties lie." Harry knew she was talking about how everyone suspected Remus, as he would be high on Voldemort's suspected list of sympathisers.

Minerva ignored the intense look coming from the Headmaster and continued. "If we all showed our arms, and if none of them are burned with the Dark Mark, it would promote better trust and ensure the integrity of the Order." _Yes, that might work, except—_

As soon as the last few words were out of her mouth, both Minerva and Harry realised it had been the wrong thing to say. Both immediately remembered Snape and his role as a spy for the Light. _Damn!_

Dumbledore, of course, immediately tried to fix the situation, as it could go rapidly downhill. "I can trust everybody here with my life. Each individual here in the Order is present only because they have already proven themselves loyal. I would think that you, of all people, would remember this, Minerva." Dumbledore met everyone's eyes, coming to rest on the Transfiguration professor.

There was silence, and Harry knew soon it would be too late. Trying not to worry about how suspicious it would look, he raised his tiny arm and pointed to Peter Pettigrew. "Bad!" he shouted in his childlike voice. _Keep it simple. I'm fifteen months for crying out loud. But how do I say Death Eater in baby-talk?_

Everyone was grinning at him and Peter, thinking the situation a joke, a welcome lightening of the mood. There were a few chuckles. Harry realised he would have to be more direct. "Snake arm!" Harry reached Pettigrew's left arm at his outburst. "Snake arm!" he repeated.

At his blatant reference to snakes, a major part of the Dark Mark, everyone once again quieted. Dumbledore turned to Harry with a frown—before glancing at Minerva and Pettigrew. Minerva was holding her breath; and Pettigrew was grinning, but had gone ghostly pale. "Bad! Snake arm!" Harry repeated into the silence for good measure.

Unsurprisingly, Dumbledore was the one who spoke up. "It seems Harry's not best pleased with you, Peter. Perhaps you should let him know you're okay." He smiled warmly at Peter, but Harry knew the Headmaster well; the seed of doubt had been planted. "Snake arm, indeed."

Peter nodded uncomfortably and reached for Harry, who responded by screaming louder and holding his mother tightly. "Snake arm!" _Yes, that should do. I am a good actor, if I do say so myself._

"Show him you've got nothing on your arm, my boy. Wouldn't want Harry to be scared of you now, would we?"

"N-no," Peter stuttered, now white as a sheet. Harry would have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious. Pettigrew paused, then lifted his right arm, pushing up his sleeve. "See Harry, no bad snake."

"Wrong arm," Moody shouted, making everyone jump, and before anyone could act, grabbed Peter, pulling back his left sleeve.

There was nothing. It was clear.

_What?_ How could this be? Where was the Mark? What happened to it? But it seemed Moody was prepared for his, and he stabbed the man's arm with his wand, hissing "_Derma Clari!_" And the skin rippled, before revealing the tattoo of a skull and snake.

With a squeak, Pettigrew pulled away quickly and reached for his wand, the movement faster than anyone would have thought possible coming from the man, but Moody was faster, his hand snaking out and taking the wand away before Pettigrew even had a chance, snapping it smoothly.

There a frozen moment of pure shock, before Harry saw Sirius shoot out from his seat. "PETER, YOU SCUMBAG TRAITOR!" he roared, and with a jerk of his wand, Peter spun and flew, wind rushing out from nowhere as the former friend was pinned to the wall. But before Sirius could do anything else, there came a woman's enraged scream from the other side of the room, and Harry saw a burst of red hair fly past him and launch itself at Peter, who was still stuck to the wall.

Molly Weasley, Harry was surprised to see, was choking Peter as she screamed and cried. "You BASTARD! You _killed my brothers!_ You TRAITOR!_ You told You-Know-Who, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU!_" Moody moved forward and quickly but gently drew her away from Peter. It pained Harry to see her crying, her eyes red, as she screamed at the man, struggling against Moody. "IT WAS YOU! YOU BETRAYED THEM! YOU TOLD _HIM_ ABOUT GIDEON AND FABIAN! AND_ NOW THEY'RE DEAD! IT WAS YOU!_" Mrs. Weasley struggled against the Auror, but Moody held her back with a look of pity on his face, and that seemed to enrage her all the more. Suddenly she had her wand out, and before anyone could stop her, she stabbed it in Peter's direction, screaming, "_PENNIPOTENTI SORDESCO!_" The Bat-Bogey Hex.

Peter screamed, and Harry looked away from what he knew would be a sickening sight. Such an emotionally-powered spell would make it much more powerful than average, and Peter's nose, Harry knew, was now going to be eaten from inside out by the bogey-bats. "AH! STOP IT! PLEASE! Oh,_ Merlin_, _PLEASE! STOP IT! I BEG OF YOU! PLEEEEAASE! OH GOD, MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!_"

Mr. Weasley pulled his wife into his embrace, and Mrs. Weasley's pained crying could be heard, along with Peter's terrified and tortured pleas.

"You deserve no mercy, Peter," said James coldly to his former friend's pleas. "You betrayed us. How could you?"

"OH, GOD, JAMES! STOP THIS! PLEASE! OH, MERLIN, SWEET MERLIN, HEEELP!"

"We would have _died_ for you, Peter," said Remus quietly, but it could still be heard. "We would have given our lives to protect you." He shook his head sadly. "What did you do, Peter? Why did you do it?"

"HE WOULD HAVE KILLED ME! HE WOULD HAVE TORTURED AND _KILLED_ ME! OH GOD, STOP THIS! _MAKE IT STOP!_"

"_Then you should have died!_" roared Sirius. "_As we would have done for you!_"

"AHH!" screamed Peter, as his flesh was torn away slowly. He was no longer coherent. He was screaming and screaming, still bound to the wall by Sirius's earlier spell.

"We made you our Secret Keeper," said Lily, in a voice that had steel in it, as sharp as a knife. "We trusted you, Peter. We trusted you."

Peter screamed. Harry caught a glimpse of his nose, and saw that it was half-eaten away.

"_Enough_," said Dumbledore calmly, but his voice rang with authority. The Bat-Bogey Hex ended abruptly, and Light magic sang, flooding the emotionally pained room with a song of peace, and Dumbledore at the heart of it. Peter sagged and stuck loosely to the wall when the hex ended, apparently passing out. "That is _quite__enough_. Molly, I sympathise with your loss, but this sort of revenge will not bring any sort of peace to you or your brothers, who have begun their next great adventures. You must honour their memories by fighting against the evil that took them, not strike at those who have already been beaten."

Mrs. Weasley nodded wearily through her tears, and Dumbledore turned to the Marauders. "James, Sirius, Remus, I know what must be going through your minds. And you will not, I repeat, _will not_ take any sort of revenge upon Peter." The men in question glared. "We will need him for questioning, and revenge is a dish best never served." Dumbledore looked at them gravely, his power and authority heavily weighing on them, and they nodded.

The Headmaster finally turned to Lily. "I was not aware that Peter held your secret, and it seems now that you cannot and _must not_ return to your home. Peter may have already revealed its location—" Sirius growled "—to Voldemort. We cannot risk Harry by your returning to that compromised location. I must insist that you and James, and Harry of course, take shelter within the protection of Hogwarts for the time being. Is that acceptable to the both of you?"

They nodded, and James quickly spoke, "I do need to pick up a few things from our home, Albus. There are items within the Potter house that mustn't be left for Voldemort to take."

"Of course," said Dumbledore. "I recommend you go tomorrow, during daylight, to retrieve those items."

The events after that passed rather quickly. Dumbledore cast a few binding spells on Pettigrew, while Remus and Sirius insisted on showing their arms to prove that they hadn't followed in the footsteps of the traitor, casting the spell Moody had used earlier as they did.

Most of the others immediately went to show their arms too, but Dumbledore quickly put a stop to their actions before they had a chance. He turned to Snape, the only one who hadn't said a thing. Harry knew he was a spy for the Light, but Dumbledore and Minerva were the only others who did.

Many in the room were eyeing Snape warily, the recent events not helping their suspicions. The man in question, however, was looking at Harry, who smiled back, trying to look innocent. Abruptly, Harry felt something probing at his Occlumency walls. _Bloody suspicious bastard._

Harry doubled his shields and heard Snape let out a gasp, before turning to wriggle deeper into the blanket wrapped around him.

"Maybe we _should_ show our arms, Albus. You yourself said you trusted everyone, including Pettigrew. What if someone else slipped by you?" Moody would not back down. Dumbledore, though, just smiled.

"Let us see if our smart little Metamorphmagus Harry has any other suspects." He walked over to Harry, who Lily was holding tighter than ever since seeing the Dark Mark. "Is anyone else bad, my dear Changeling?" 'Changeling' was another name given to those who had Metamorphmagus abilities, Harry knew, and found himself giggling helplessly as Dumbledore cooed in his sweetest baby voice.

Harry tried to hold back a full blown laugh, but then realising that his laughter was releasing some of the high-strung tension remaining in the room, he made a quick decision and giggled some more, tugging on Dumbledore's beard. Harry saw Minerva cover her smile out of the corner of his eye.

"I believe we can take that as a _no_, then." Dumbledore turned back to look at everyone else. "It appears that Harry agrees with me, and everyone else here is loyal to our cause." Moody scowled heavily, and Dumbledore knew, as well as Harry did, that everyone would only become more distrustful if something was not done.

Twinkling very evident, Dumbledore continued, "However, if you have anyone in the room you do not trust, then you are invited to speak privately with me about the matter until it is resolved. I realise that this is a serious issue, so I will completely understand if you do indeed take me up on that offer."

After a silent moment, wherein no one moved, Dumbledore added, "Perhaps another night, then."

Dumbledore looked at everyone, his gaze moving from face to face, and nodded. "Go home and rest, and remember, my door is always open. If anyone else, other than James and Lily here, wishes to stay here until this mess is sorted out, there are spare rooms beside each of the teacher's quarters. The passwords are all currently _Jellybeans_, and you know how to reset them. Tomorrow is Halloween; be prepared and ready, but don't forget that there is life outside of Voldemort—and we must not forget it, for if we do, we have already lost. Enjoy the festivities tomorrow, ladies and gentlemen."

After that, everyone else left the Headmaster's office, save for Dumbledore, Minerva and Snape. James and Lily, who were currently showering Harry with kisses, and Sirius, who was poking at Harry from the side in fun, and Remus, silently walking behind them, moved out as a group. Harry squeaked and giggled as only a baby could, and tried to wiggle away. _Please, I do _not_ want to be smothered with kisses right now!_ He could tell the forced happiness of the group was fake, as they moved along the corridors of Hogwarts, and he did not like it one bit._ The very first night I get to spend with my parents, and already Wormtail messes it up._

Lily sighed. "I just can't believe that Peter would do something like that."

There was a moment of silence. James let out a deep breath. "Let's not talk about it tonight, dear. Sirius, Remus, I'd really appreciate it if you could help me out when I go over to my house tomorrow, you lot up for it?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "But you'll probably have to break the Fidelius first. Neither Remus nor I know the location, yet."

"Yeah, you're right," said James. "We do have to do that." He sighed. "Lily and I'll see Dumbledore about it tomorrow."

In the end, they agreed to meet at Hogwarts mid-morning and go to Godric's Hollow all together.

And none of them—not Harry, his parents, his godfather, nor Remus—ever glanced at their former friend. Not once as they grouped together in the Headmaster's office and left did they give the rat their attention.

If they had, they would have seen the silent tears that leaked from the man's eyes; they would have noticed the red gleam shrouded within those watery depths.

If they had, they would have noticed that Peter had not passed out as they had assumed but was very much conscious, and they would have seen a rather foreboding look in his eyes as he processed the information he had just heard from Dumbledore and James.

If they had, they would have known not to go anywhere near Godric's Hollow on Halloween—even if it was during the day.

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_**To be continued….**_

_Chapter Two: _Suspicions _will be updated soon, but reviews help shorten the time. So take the hint and _review!_ A simple, "Wonderful!" or a "Love it!" will do! Even simple messages like that inspire authors to write more!_

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**Ending Notes:**

I'm not too sure about the pairings yet. I know the original author was gearing towards a HPDM, but I don't think I'm up to writing slash, though I do enjoy reading it.I, myself, kind of like the idea of Harry/Luna. Oh, and no worries, this story will not in any way be centered around the romance. It'll be a very offside thing.

Again, the first chapter is quite different from the original. And you'll also notice different subplots. Those of you who've read the other "Young Again" will find my version quite… different, but hopefully not in a bad way. Yeah, the ending of this chapter really branches away from the original. But not too far, I hope.

Anyway, I hope I've gotten most of the people in character now. It was a bit awkward when I first wrote it, but hopefully I've fixed that. How did you like Mrs. Weasley's rage? Was it too, I don't know, over-the-top? I kind of imagined what I would feel like if both of my brothers were killed, and were I to face the killer, what would I do? This is the result. Anyway, hope you liked it! The whole Marauders blow-up over Peter was intense for me, and I hope you feel the same!

Read the "_To be continued…."_ section for the date of the next upload. Happy **_reviewing!_**

Comments always welcome.

_-- liath_

! Updated: 4.17.06 -oOo- Revised: 08.28.06 !  
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	3. CH02: Suspicions

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_Chapter Two: _Suspicions

_by Taliath

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Minerva McGonagall had never been very emotional, and so it was only a matter of time before she had full command of herself. After all, as the leader of the Light and of the Order for nearly two years now, it was but second nature for her to be able to strip herself of such distractions as emotions tended to be. Though being tossed back in time had certainly seemed to destroy a lot of the emotional barriers she had placed within herself, by the time everyone but Albus and Severus had left, she was relatively back to normal—meaning that she once again exuded the aura of a confident, powerful Light witch who had, many times, led the way in countless battles against the Dark Lord. The Mistress of Transfiguration who had been a match for any one Inner Circle Death Eater, and many times could best two or even three. The Headmistress of Hogwarts who had held everything together in times when everything was falling apart. Indeed, this was who she had become—no longer the Transfiguration professor who blindly followed Albus, but instead, the one who did the leading and demanded others to follow.

And so it was no surprise that when Albus turned back towards her, he stopped suddenly, as though he had never seen her before—which was very true; Albus had never witnessed her in this light. She had greatly changed during Voldemort's second rise, and for the most part, she had changed in such a way that made her stronger, more powerful, and certainly more commanding.

_So much changed after you died, Albus. And now I find I cannot trust you as I once did._

As Headmistress over Hogwarts for a whole year after Albus's death, she had witnessed many of the remaining threads of his manipulations twist and turn, and it had deeply shaken her trust in the man she had once called her friend, mentor, and leader. Exploitations, threads of compulsion—even after his death, there had been a net of his power woven throughout Hogwarts and beyond, continuing to influence the world, and it had sickened her to think that her friend could do such a thing. But the evidence that had been before her during her first few reigning months as Headmistress was irrefutable.

She had realized then that she did not know the man at all—that the Albus she knew was only a mask, and the wizard once known as the greatest within centuries was shrouded within shadows of lies and deceit.Minerva faced Dumbledore now, taking deep breaths, and in her heart she trembled.

_And I cannot let him do so again. _

She knew it would come to this. The moment Albus had stepped in during the fight with Pettigrew, the moment he had spun his web of compulsion, his net of forced servitude, the moment he had forced his will on those of the Order—she knew that Albus Dumbledore, leader of the Light, was indeed the master manipulator that had caused so much trouble in her time. Oh, of course, she knew that he had done it in the name of the _greater good._ But she could never forgive him for the deliberate placing of children in harm, or the sacrifices he had forced others to make.

No one knew, no one had faced the terrible shock that she had experienced when she realised the depths of his manipulations. Not even dear Harry, who had been subjected to so many forced sacrifices by Dumbledore. No, not one of her allies, not one of the Light, not any one but her knew of the subtle coercions that he had used during his life.

And no one, not even her, would have known—if it were not for his Pensieve that he had so carelessly left behind. It had greatly surprised her to find it so unprotected, brimmed full of memories from his past. Perhaps he had thought no one would dare touch it without his permission, and had not expected to die so soon. Perhaps he had left it behind as a last testament, a sort of confessional to the person who stumbled his or her way into the Pensieve—a release from a past full of corruption. Perhaps.

She had looked in it during the summer after Albus had been murdered, hoping that somewhere within the silvery remains of the man she had so respected, there would be something useful, a lesson that she could learn, anything that could be of use to the side of Light. And to her surprise, she found memories, multitudes of memories concerning his path from childhood to adulthood, from a powerful Transfiguration professor to Headmaster of Hogwarts, from Light wizard to Lord of Light.

And yet she also saw, within the deepest depths of his past, from the shadiest moments of his memories—she saw with her own eyes the deceptions that he wove, the lies he carefully planted. She watched clearly the webs of compulsions he spun out in subtle, very intricate threads. A great man, a man worthy of all the praise he had received from both Light and Dark wizards alike—but a man who betrayed the very principles that he represented.

The Light was freedom. It was simply that. A freedom of will—so sacred, and at the heart of what it meant to be of the Light.

Of course, it was far more complicated than that. _Life is full of paradoxes, full of contradictions_. And indeed, the identities of Light and Dark were just as complicated, but just as clear.

It was not as simple as saying that the Light provided freedom and the Dark imprisonment—for the Light valued precision and control, which was a limit to freedom, whereas the Dark was wild and unpredictable. The debate concerning the differences between Light and Dark had been going on since before the time of Merlin—but to Minerva, it was rather simple, for the definitions came down to free will.

And at the very heart of the Light was free will.

That was why she had sworn her life to the Light when she had attained her rank as Mistress in the art of Transfigurations. She had devoted her life to serving the Light, to protect the freedom of individual will.

And so it hurt her deeply when Albus had so frequently stepped and crushed what she valued above all else—and it cut even more because he, above all, had known exactly why she had taken her oaths.

But the worst, the very worst of it all, was that he had compelled _her_ as well. He had twisted _her_ mind at times to suit his will. And he had _limited _her own free will.

_You have betrayed me, and betrayed the Light. Oh Albus, why have you done this?_

Had Minerva not been prepared, had she not trained herself to master Occlumency, had she not already known Albus's intricate Legilimency, she would never have caught his coercions tonight. Though her own Legilimency was nowhere near even what Harry was capable of, she prided herself on her Occlumency. Indeed, defence work had always come naturally to her. Transfiguration was primarily used in defenceof one's self when used in battle. Of course, Minerva, as a Mistress of the art, easily struck deadly blows with her abilities when facing Voldemort's armies—however, the very basis of Transfiguration, when it was first developed, was used for defence. And while she knew she could not surpass Albus in the art of defending her mind, her knowledge of the Headmaster's subtle designs allowed her to reject the forced calmness and awe that he had softly fed to everyone within the room.

_Forced calmness and awe!_ Minerva knew that by now, it was only second nature for Albus to spread his magic, influencing the minds of those around him—it no longer bothered him, as once it did in his relative youth.

_You have forgotten what it means to be a true Lord of Light, Albus_. _I have not._

Minerva remembered reading about Lord Acton, who had been Supreme Mugwump for thirteen years before the death of his wife, after which he had gone to live with Muggles. A wizard declared for the Light, he had once written, and Minerva remembered well, "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men."

_You are but one man, though great. You have power, great power, but even in your hands it corrupts. Alone you have stood, and alone you have fallen, disgracing the Light. I shall not let you soil yourself again. _Minerva felt her resolve tighten. _You once told me that there would come a time when a student must surpass her teacher, and become a teacher herself. You spoke once that a pupil must one day guide her master._

_I will do so, Albus._

Minerva looked up calmly at Albus's surprised face, resolve soothing away her fears, and knew in her heart that what she did was right. She would be true to the Light, and would show the Headmaster once again what it meant to be _of_ the Light.

_And if worst comes to worst,_ Minerva thought grimly of her friend and mentor,_ I will fight you if I must. _

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The rooms that Harry's parents chose were located in a rather secluded area in the professors' wing, and as Lily quickly drew privacy wards and changed the passwords, James just as easily conjured a baby's crib. It amazed Harry, as he lay within his crib, watching them work; the efficiency and diligence that his parents showed as they worked, each knowing their part, was breath-taking. Indeed, it was almost as if they had done this many times, warding their rooms and preparing them for their stay.

Then Harry remembered, as Remus had once told him, of the fact that nearly the whole year before the Fidelius had been cast, before the necessary preparations for the spell had been accomplished, his family had been forced to move from safe house to safe house in order to avoid the Dark Lord. It was during that time, Harry knew, that his parents had gained this careful and cautious routine, and as he watched them now, it was very efficient, indeed.

"And how's our little Changeling settling in?" asked Lily as she finished the last of her wards, easily stretching the mass of rainbow-coloured threads to encompass the whole room. It was, Harry realised with a start, far more than he would have been able to accomplish. _Of course, my mother _is_ a Charms Mistress—it's really no mystery why she'd be able to do that_. Indeed, it appeared that she had done it with no apparent trouble at all, raising multiple wards that he guessed even Minerva would have trouble handling—let alone himself. Then again, just as Charms was Lily's strength and Transfiguration her weakness, so it was that Charms for Minerva was a weakness, and Transfiguration her strength.

Harry giggled in response to Lily's question, happily gurgling with what he hoped was a convincing act of baby-innocence.

"Ready for some sleepy-time?" said Lily as she took him out of his crib to rock him gently, turning to watch James, who waved at little Harry, before leaving for the bathroom to take a shower. "You'll be in dreamland, then! Won't that be exciting, dear?"

Suddenly Harry tensed. _Dreamland. My dreams, my nightmares. _He had been having horrible nightmares ever since the war started, and he knew that tonight would be no different. _I always wake up screaming, and normally Silencing Charms are enough to keep me from waking the others_.

He didn't have a wand to cast them now. _Blast!_ What was he going to do?

"Lily! You coming?" yelled a muffled James from the bathroom, and Lily ignored him, rolling her eyes as she smiled back down at Harry. _Eeww_, thought the baby, _just, just… eeww!_

"Well, dearest, let's get you settled in," said Lily as she waved her wand, wordlessly casting cleaning spells on his person. Then carefully placing Harry in the crib, she placed her wand on the table next to it, before heading towards the bathroom.

_This is my chance_, he thought as he watched his mother disappear through the door, and tried forcing his muscles to move. _I wonder how much control I have over my muscles? I'm barely over a year old now; would I be able to stand?_

Harry found that, yes, he could indeed stand—but the problem was that he couldn't stand for longer than three or so seconds, before losing his balance, which was hardly enough, as he had to be able to climb out of his crib and reach for the wand on the table, then return.

_Perhaps a little accidental magic would work? I know children do it all the time_. It was the result, Harry knew, of uncontrolled power. If he wished hard enough for the wand, as he done plenty of times when he was younger—wishing to be away and Apparating onto the school roof, or turning his teacher's hair blue—he thought he could summon the wand.

Turning suspiciously towards the eerily silent bathroom—_Silencing wards_, Harry thought to himself—he focused on the wand mere feet away from his crib.

_To me_, he told it silently,_ come to me._

And to his complete surprise, it moved, wiggling a little, before stopping. He tried once again, and this time stretched out his hand for it._ Accio! _he cried in his mind_. Come to me, now!_

The wand trembled, as though resisting Harry's silent command, but in the end flew into his hand with a sudden rush, and he felt tears suddenly come to his eyes as the wand painfully collided with his sensitive palms. _That hurt!_

Glaring balefully at the wand before him, much too heavy and large for him to lift with ease, he tried to get his stubby fingers to cooperate and wrap around the wand. Succeeding moments later, Harry pushed the wand with both his hands to get it to point at himself, and opened his mouth to speak the charm that would place a Privacy Ward around his crib—

The bathroom door banged open, and a slightly wet James, wearing only a towel, stormed out, his wand before him and his eyes darting around the room. "_Fateor Absconditus!_" The very room rippled as James's powerful Revealer charm spread throughout the room, and Harry knew it would cancel most, if not all, charms that would disillusion or render invisible the caster. But James didn't even wait for the results, hissing out, "_Accio _Lily's wand!"

Harry cried out as the wand was torn away from him, and James seemed shocked as his hand unconsciously snagged the wand out of the air. "_Harry_?" James blinked for a stunned second, before turning around and speaking into the bathroom. "It was Harry, Lily." There was a touch of wonder in his voice. "He had your wand—he must have Summoned it to him."

Lily finally appeared, peering around the door. "Harry?" She only had a bathrobe covering her and she quickly walked to a slightly teary-eyed baby. _That bloody hurt!_ The wand had been torn out from his hands, and his rather soft skin didn't seem to agree with that action. "Are you all right? James, what did you do? Why is he crying?"

"He must have been holding onto it when I summoned it," said James as he quickly moved towards them, handing Lily her wand. "_Torpeo Dolor_," he said, tapping his son on the head. Harry immediately felt the spell work its way across his small body, and the cool soothing sensation took away the pain.

James shook his head with incredulity. "My son just performed accidental magic. And he's barely fifteen months old." When Lily raised an eyebrow at him, her arms gently rocking Harry, James quickly continued. "Lily, do you know how rare that is? Most children start to produce Accidental Magic around five or six, sometimes four, and rarely three! Harry's only fifteen months—_and_ he's a _Metamorphmagus!_"

_Oh bother_, thought Harry as he sighed mentally. _I never should have tried to summon the wand—or change my eyes so publicly._ How did his parents know about the wand? _Mum must have charms on her wand that tells her when it's been tampered with, _Harry realised. That was why the wand had resisted his summoning spell.Useful

Suddenly a yawn stole away from him, and his parents immediately put him back into his crib. "Sweet dreams, dearest," said Lily, as she gave him a soft kiss on his forehead.

"And no more accidental magic tonight, okay, son?" said James, though his eyes danced with pride, and his smile was that of a thrilled father.

When both of them returned to the bathroom—this time Lily firmly carrying her wand with her—Harry really did sigh, fighting to keep his eyes open. What was he going to do now? He couldn't cast the privacy charms.

Another yawn escaped his control, and Harry gave up trying to keep himself from sleep. His body just wasn't capable of resisting it, and his mind was still not fully recovered from that long day of fighting at Hogwarts, not to mention the time travel and Wormtail's capture.

One night of nightmares wouldn't make them suspicious, Harry decided slowly, and besides, why would they be suspicious at all?Why would anyone? In fact, he doubted anyone would get suspicious if he had nightmares for weeks. _Well, maybe not weeks of nightmares_, he relented, _but certainly it won't be too suspicious for a few nights of dream-terror._ His situation was so far-fetched that if someone had _told_ him they were from the future even just yesterday, he would have laughed at them. And he didn't plan on telling anyone. He would try again later for the wand. Perhaps his father's wand wouldn't have any charms on it.

Then a final thought entered his mind before he slipped into his dreams, and with that thought came deep satisfaction.

_My parents are alive; everyone is alive._

_And they will _stay_ alive._

_

* * *

_

Minerva had never imagined that she would feel pity for the man before her, but to her utter surprise, it was there. As she peered down at the defeated Death Eater, former Order member, betrayer of friends, she felt a deep, sad pity.

"What is your name?" Albus was behind his restored desk—_and for two years, my own_, thought Minerva with a hidden smile—and his blue eyes stared intently down at Peter Pettigrew, who was tied and bound to the chair before him, drugged with three drops of Veritaserum.

To the right sat Severus, who was, even at his young age, trusted rather deeply by Albus—for what reason, Minerva knew exactly—and to the left was where she sat, in a position where she could face all three, Albus and Snape and the rat, without the need to turn her head in an obvious manner. _Just in case I need to look at either one of them without their knowing._

"Peter Pettigrew," moaned the prisoner.

Once again Minerva felt a flash of unwanted pity for the man, and hastened to wipe it away. Death Eaters deserved no pity, and more so for Pettigrew. _You betrayed James and Lily, you betrayed Harry, you helped bring the resurrection of the Dark Lord, and you killed Hermione._

She recalled James's voice as he uttered coldly, 'You deserve no mercy,' and she agreed completely.

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

She saw Albus close his eyes for a moment, and knew that he would feel the betrayal deep within him, for it was now irrefutable that Pettigrew was a Death Eater and had divulged secrets of the Order.

But Minerva raised an eyebrow when his eyes suddenly snapped open, and piercing blue focused intently on Peter's dark brown eyes. _Legilimency_, she thought immediately, and it was confirmed moments later when the intensity within the man's eyes died. _What did he find within Pettigrew's head?_

"Why?" said Albus, and Minerva felt disgust. _It's a game to you, it's all a dance of intricate threads. You already know why; you struck his mind with your Legilimency._ _And yet you proceed to hide this fact by asking redundant questions_.

"I have always been looked down upon. I have always been ignored. I have always been underestimated." Pettigrew's face looked hideous, with dried blood and a healed half-eaten nose—most fortunately the nose could not be restored, which Madam Pomfrey seemed to have had a strange joy in announcing—and his eyes were darting away from Albus's hard stare. But to Minerva's surprise, he suddenly sat up straight glaring at them all, before the next moment quailing.

_Very odd behavior_, Minerva studied him, _has his mind been touched with madness? Perhaps the Bat-Bogey torture snapped his mind?_ Then she nearly laughed aloud. _What Death Eater has not insanity upon him? Only the insane could join Voldemort!_

"When did you join Lord Voldemort?"

"I received my mark nearly a year ago," came the snarl from Pettigrew, "but my Master has known of me for nearly two."

"Have you revealed the Potters' location?"

"Yes."

And so it continued, Albus very carefully questioning the traitor, and Minerva could not believe the amount of information that had already been passed on to the Dark Lord. Indeed, she had never quite known the extent of Pettigrew's betrayal, but now that she knew, all of that pity she had felt for the man disappeared, slowly but surely.

And at the end, Albus asked his final question: "Is there anything you do not wish to inform us?"

At the reluctant affirmative from Pettigrew, the Headmaster then asked, "What is it?"

"I raped a Muggle-born last month. She was young. I killed her mother," said Pettigrew with a strange calm. "I've given Voldemort a list of Muggle-borns that I copied from the Book of Records. I've had a crush on Lily since my third year. My blood tastes good. I have a hole in my shoe. My head feels funny. I can't—"

"Enough," Minerva silenced the rat before her. "Albus, the question is too broad."

"Indeed," he replied, looking intently at Pettigrew with a look that Minerva knew was severe disappointment. "Indeed. There seems to be nothing more to learn. Take him away, Severus. Tomorrow I shall inform the Ministry of him. They will, I am sure, be very willing to place him within the walls of Azkaban without the need for a trial—a trial which could reveal information we can hardly afford to allow out into the open."

"A moment, Albus," said Minerva, her thoughts racing. She knew that the moment Pettigrew was able to, he would transform into a rat to disappear—and she would have to prevent that from happening. "I have another question to ask." _Now, how do I ask a question that refers to his ability, and yet is not blindingly obvious to everyone that I am searching for such an answer? _Without waiting for permission, she asked a question, carefully wording it: "Do you have any way to contact the Dark Lord of your capture?"

"Yes," said Pettigrew eagerly.

Again, Minerva felt disturbed by his quick change of moods, but roughly pushed it aside. "And what would that be?"

"I can contact him through rats, and there are many in this castle."

_And now to reveal his secret_. "How is that?"

"I am a rat Animagus. I developed an affinity with rats over the past years."

"You, an Animagus?" spat Snape. "Impossible! You have hardly a brain enough for daily functions, let alone enough to become a fully transforming Animagus!"

And thus came out the story of the Marauders as they searched to help Remus once they'd found out about his curse, and about their journey into becoming full, competent Animagi.

"Well," said Severus after a moment, once the story was finished. "Tonight has certainly been informative." Minerva watched, amused, as the man shook his head roughly. "It is almost hard to believe. Potter and Black, both Animagi!"

Albus chuckled, but Minerva could detect a hint of a troubled, dark mood echoing within his voice. After another moment, the Headmaster spoke again with a heavy sigh. "Administer the antidote, Severus. There is nothing more to learn. Once we conclude our meeting, I would greatly appreciate it if you could perhaps find a dungeon deep below Hogwarts to place him for the time being—firmly bound, of course."

"I have just the place in mind," said Snape, as he roughly forced down a few drops of the antidote. With a wave of his wand, Pettigrew's head suddenly dropped forward, and his body relaxed.

"Now, Minerva," said Albus, turning to look at her, pinning her with his deep blue eyes. "I have a question for you."

_I wonder what this is about?_ Minerva raised a cool eyebrow, and nodded. "Ask."

"I am concerned, Minerva, as to your actions tonight." Albus reached for a sherbet lemon, and continued. "For example, why did you bring up the issue of disloyalty existing within the Order tonight? In fact, you hardly seemed surprised when Peter was unmasked." _He was watching me_, Minerva realised suddenly, _and I never noticed. _

She knew she would have to tread carefully. _If I make a mistake here, all will be revealed—and we cannot afford for that to happen_. A slip up now could mean gaining Albus's suspicions, which would ultimately be detrimental to their cause. Already she could feel the subtle threads brushing against her skin, the almost indistinguishable scent of Albus's subtle Legilimency spread throughout the office, and knew her every word would need to be carefully spoken, so that her lies would go undetected. _But I will succeed. I can do this._ _I _must_ be able to do this_. Thoughts racing to string together a convincing lie, Minerva spoke with an outward calm, "Do you recall, Albus, my earlier fainting spell before the meeting of the Order?"

The moment she spoke, the threads of Legilimency hanging in the air spun and tangled, seemingly catching every word and judging it for truth—while another few brushed ever so lightly against her mind.

But Minerva was ready for this. Memories were created, threads of thought shifted, and false illusions were formed—a barrier of scattered thoughts that protected her mind.

"Yes, I do recall," said Albus, just as outwardly normal. Nobody, not even Minerva had she not been prepared, would have known that the Headmaster's mist-like magic was invading the privacy of her mind, drawing out thoughts, testing her words, and violating her free will by influencing her to be more open. Or at least, in this case, _trying_ to.

"It was," said Minerva, pausing for a second, "it was almost as though I received a sort of _vision_." At Severus's raised eyebrow, she spoke quickly with distaste. "Not at all like Divination, which is, as I have always said and will always say, a rather… imprecise and… _impractical_ branch of magic. Rather, it was like the sudden knowledge popped into my mind. Perhaps," she said in amusement, "fate decided to grant us all a favour by informing me."

Albus seemed to consider her words, while the invading threads within her mind searched for truth, and when he finally nodded and withdrew, she knew she had succeeded in fooling the Headmaster. "That is a very interesting phenomenon, Minerva. And if indeed fate is on our side, then perhaps we may yet win this war."

"Well, at least you could have handled it better," snapped the spy. "Albus was only just able to calm them, and I could still see some doubt as to my loyalty when everyone left."

"Perhaps," said Minerva coolly. _I will not apologise for what I did. Perhaps I should have handled it better—but under the circumstances, it was the best I could do._ And she doubted that Severus, had he been in her position, would have done any better. Wordlessly casting a Tempus charm, she attempted to change the subject. "It is getting late, gentlemen. Maybe we could continue this rather interesting discussion some other time?"

"One moment, Minerva," said Albus, with the twinkling in his eyes. "I do know you enjoy your peace and rest, but I must ask that you wait for just a moment longer. Severus, I believe you had something to speak to us about?"

Severus nodded. "It is about the Potter boy."

_Oh, dear_, thought Minerva. She forced herself to remain steady. "Oh? And what about young Potter?"

"I have reason to believe that the boy is possessed."

"Possessed? Surely not!" Minerva allowed disbelief to creep into her voice. "What would give you such an idea?"

"I attempted to perform Legilimency on the boy—"

She felt a flash of anger, but soothed it away quickly. _Another dance, another problem to mount. I feel, Harry, that we will have many such troubles in the future. _She only hoped that they would be able to surpass them. "Legilimency, Severus? Was that really necessary? On a toddler?"

"Did you not find it strange that a fifteen-month old baby apparently understood our conversation and spoke words such as _snake_ and _bad_ at that exact moment?" Snape glared. "Yes, Minerva, I found Legilimency necessary."

Albus drew the conversation back towards him. "What did you find in the boy's mind? I assume that it is worthy of our interest?"

"Indeed, Headmaster, very worthy," Snape said slowly. "However, I was quite unable to attain any sort of foothold within the boy's mind at all. The child performed Occlumency against me."

Minerva fought against the temptation to close her eyes, and instead raised her brow in question. "Occlumency? Surely you are mistaken, Severus. He is, as you have said, but fifteen months old."

"And that is exactly why I believe he is possessed. No child, let alone a baby, could have mastered the technique. And I felt him _actively_ reject my attack."

"Perhaps he is a natural Occlumens? There have been several reported occasions in recent history," said Albus.

Snape shook his head. "Even if he was natural, his ability would not have developed so far. I am telling you, he _rejected_ me from his mind." The spy leaned back in his chair. "I will, however, grant that the boy is nowhere near skilled. The very fact that I _felt_ his Occlumency shields speaks of a lack of proficiency. And _that_, Albus, Minerva, is why I feel the boy is possessed."

"But possessed?" asked Minerva again.

"Perhaps," cut in Albus, "there is another explanation—a far simpler one. Already we have seen tonight how extraordinary young Mr. Potter is. Indeed, after tonight's performance, I believe we can safely say that Harry is not at all normal, for he is a Metamorphmagus—with enough skill to perfect his eyesight—and is advanced with his mental skills. Thus assuming that he is not possessed, can we not conclude that perhaps, as a natural Occlumens, his skill would be as advanced as his Metamorphmagus and mental capabilities seem to indicate? And if his abilities have already been developed, could he not have prevented your mental reading, Severus?"

Reluctantly Severus nodded, not fully convinced, but Minerva sighed inwardly with relief. _Crisis averted._

But when Albus spoke again, Minerva knew she would have to speak to Harry as soon as possible. "However, I agree that it is indeed strange, and I will be watching young Harry very closely. But as for this moment, it is quite late. I know the both of you must be desperate to return your quarters. And so I shall bid the both of you good night." And with a wave from him, the office doors swung open.

Severus nodded to the both of them, wordlessly levitating Pettigrew, and turned to leave, Minerva not far behind him. _That went better, and worse, than I expected._ It was already nearing three in the morning.

As Minerva walked down the passageways to her rooms with a whirlwind of thoughts passing through her mind, one thought remained above all else.

_It's good to be back. _

_

* * *

_

Harry dreamed.

_He stood once again before Lord Voldemort. His left hand was a bloody mess, and his other hand clutched painfully onto his wand. Ron was bleeding heavily beside him, unconscious._

"_You have behaved foolishly, Potter," said the Dark Lord. "Did you really believe that you would be able to find my Horcruxes without my noticing?"_

_Ron moaned. Harry gripped his wand tighter, fully aware of the cup of Helga Hufflepuff in his pocket, and spoke. "Well, it took you long enough—"_

Crucio_. The Dark Lord flicked his wand, and Harry screamed._

_Suddenly hands grabbed him and lifted him to his feet. "Harry, run! We'll hold them back!" Hermione yelled, her wand moving swiftly as Death Eaters poured into the Ministry, while her other hand roughly pushed Harry. "GO!"_

_Harry looked around, but saw no Voldemort. "RUN!" screamed Ginny, as the Death Eaters morphed and turned into Dementors. He took a step back—_

_Suddenly he was falling, and helplessness washed over him as he saw the black waters far below him rise up to meet his descent._

"_HARRY!" Hagrid roared in the distance._

_From the black waters below sprang up hundreds and hundreds of hands, pale and silvery hands that reached up for Harry. As he drew closer and closer, he found that the waters were filled with thousands of dead bodies—and it was the deep red blood that had diffused in the sea of bodies that made it look black._

_One face drew his attention, and it was more visible than the others. It was bruised and beaten black, one of its eyes were milky white, the other filled red with blood. Its face was disfigured greatly, but Harry still knew the instant he saw its face._

_Luna._

_Harry screamed_.

* * *

Jerking awake, Harry found himself trapped—he couldn't move. He began to thrash, desperate to be free, and felt the suffocating weight of something holding him tight. 

"Shh, Harry," whispered a worried voice. "It's all right. Mummy's here. Shh."

Harry froze.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," continued that soothing voice softly to Harry's whimpering. "It was only a nightmare, dear, only a nightmare."

Memories rushed forward, and Harry quickly ceased his involuntary whimpers, and felt himself being rocked gently by his mother.

_My mother. She's alive and holding me. It wasn't just a dream after all._

"My poor baby," she said, with hidden tears in her eyes. "Were you dreaming of mean Peter? He did give you such a fright last night."

"Lily?" asked James, and Harry heard him move slowly over from the bed.

"He's shaking, James," she told him, and Harry heard an echo of anger in her voice. "He's pale and shaking. He must have been dreaming about Peter." _She's angry at Peter because she thinks he caused my nightmare_, Harry realised, and for some reason he felt an odd warming sensation within his stomach. "I'm taking him to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey should have something to take away the nightmares."

"Wait a moment," said James. "I'll come with you." He pulled out his wand, and with weary movements, transfigured his clothes into respectable robes, conjuring the same for Lily.

"Thanks," she said, taking out her own wand to summon their cloaks, and they left the rooms, heading for the hospital wing.

As they passed through the hallways, Harry noticed the cleanliness and feeling of magic thrum within the walls, and was glad to see Hogwarts as she once was. The portraits were still moving, the stairways still swung about, and the torches lit one by one as his parents walked, illuminating the way—the torches behind them snuffing out as they went past.

Suddenly James stopped them, and Harry looked around. His father snapped his wand out and several balls of light shot out ahead of them.

"What is it?" asked Lily quietly, her voice barely discernable as she kept it to a bare minimum. She pulled out her own wand with one hand, the other holding Harry.

James frowned. "I thought I heard something—"

There were the sound of footsteps from around the corner of the passage way, and his parents sprang into action. Lily doused the torches with a wave of her wand at the same moment James drew them both to the side. The footsteps got louder and louder, and the torches just around the corner lit as a figure began to turn the corner.

It was Minerva.

Harry watched as she suddenly paused, and with a quickness borne from battle, her wand flicked and all the torches along the hallway burst to life—before James or Lily could react. _I'm glad to see Minerva hasn't lost her touch, coming back in time._ She was in the middle of another spell, but stopped when she saw them. "James? Lily? What are you doing out so late?" Minerva shook her head slowly. "So early, I should say." She was puzzled, and Harry could hear it in her voice.

"Professor!" exclaimed James. "You gave us a fright!"

"If you are so easily frightened, then perhaps you shouldn't wander around the hallways so late, and with all the torches doused," she replied.

"We're sorry, Professor," said Lily quickly. "Harry here had a nightmare and we were just walking to the infirmary. I doused the flames because James heard something, but it was only your footsteps."

Harry saw Minerva look at him when Lily spoke of his nightmares; he blinked in answer to her silent question. _Yes, the same ones I always have_.

"I'll go with you, Lily, if you don't mind," said the professor after a moment. "I was going to go down there anyway, to get something for this headache I seem to have." _You and I need to talk, Harry_, he easily translated her hidden meaning.

"Of course," said James. "We don't mind at all."

It took only a short while to finally reach the infirmary, and only a moment to wake Madam Pomfrey, who slept within the hospital wing. "What seems to be the problem, Lily dear?"

"It's Harry. He had a terrible nightmare, and woke up all pale and shaken. I was wondering if you had anything you could give him."

The nurse muttered a few spells, waved her wand over him a few times, then shook her head wearily. "Well, I cannot give him Dreamless Sleep. You know as well as I that Dreamless Sleep is dangerous for children under two. There may be a few spells that might be helpful, but I suggest you simply do nothing. One night of nightmares won't damage him, and I'm sure it'll pass quickly."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, dear, I am sure. However, I _would_ like to keep him in here for the rest of the night, and monitor him."

"I'll stay with him, then—"

"You most certainly will not, Lily. You will need to get some sleep, which you'd hardly be able to do while sitting beside his crib. Remember, tomorrow is Halloween." She said this gravely, and Lily seemed to understand why. "I understand you are worried, Lily, but I will watch over him closely. And you and James must both be ready for tomorrow." Again there was that solemnity, and Harry understood why. _It's Halloween tomorrow, and they're expecting a battle._

Reluctantly nodding, Lily gave Harry a small kiss before placing him in a crib that Madam Pomfrey brought out. "Sleep well, dearest. I'll pick you up in a few hours."

"Good night, Madam Pomfrey, and you too, Professor," said Lily. After James bid them both farewell, the couple left looking tired.

There was a brief moment of silence, wherein the nurse tucked a small blanket around Harry, before she turned towards Minerva. "And what can I do for you?"

"A mild headache relieving potion," she replied. "And perhaps something for my nausea. I seem to be suffering the consequences of my fainting spell, now."

"Two potions, then," said Madam Pomfrey. "I'll just go to the Potions stores to get them." The nurse turned to leave, but even before the nurse was all the way out, Minerva already established a Silencing Ward and stepped up to Harry, turning to face the door that Pomfrey had just gone out of. _This way she can easily see the nurse return_, thought Harry.

"I have not much time, Harry," she spoke quickly, "and I have much to tell. Wormtail has already revealed the location to Lord Voldemort, and his rat Animagus form has been revealed. Severus has told Albus of your Occlumency shields, but the Headmaster believes that you are a natural Occlumens. Of course, he did say that he would keep careful watch over you. Severus, however, is not convinced—we must watch him closely."

Harry growled, but was mortified to find that the growl coming from his baby-voice completely lost its effects as it sounded more cute than dangerous, and stopped immediately. He glared at Minerva, who was hiding a smile, and she continued in a quick but amused voice. "Harry, we must not get caught. It is imperative that our time traveling remains secre—"

Minerva cut off, and Harry saw from the corner of his eye as she cancelled the Silencing Ward, just in time, as the door swung open and the nurse entered. Minerva must have had Perimeter Charms cast as well, to alert her of the nurse's return. And he hadn't even caught her doing it. "Here, Minerva. Take these, and drink them. It will help with your headache and nausea."

_So, Peter told Voldemort already. The Dark Lord may already be planning to attack tonight. My parents will have to be in and out before then._

Distantly Harry heard Minerva thank the nurse and take the potions, but was unable to hear either of them as he felt the darkness of unconsciousness try to overwhelm him. _My body is just too weak. I am too weak. And I'll be this weak for many years, still_.

For the second time, before Harry fell asleep, came a final thought.

_But that's okay. Everyone is still alive. _

_

* * *

_

Peter Pettigrew thought he knew fear; he thought he knew what it felt like to be terrified. He found now that he had really had no clue.

_Yes_, whispered a cold voice. It was very different from Peter's. _You have no idea. But you will, my little rat. You will_.

He attempted to shiver, but his body was not his to control.

_You will do well, Wormtail, to remember this_, continued that foreign mental voice. It rang from every corner of his mind, twisting and turning, echoing endlessly._ You are not in control. You have never been in control._

It was nearly a year now since he had formally sworn his allegiance to the Dark Lord, and ten months since his master had gifted him with an artifact of great power. Peter had accepted it with joy, believing that such a gift meant he was garnering much favour, which was always a good thing. He wore it always, he took it everywhere with him. He had carefully taken to Disillusioning it, and thus no one had noticed it—but within his heart he had been proud. His master approved of him enough to entrust him with a powerful artifact. And though he knew not what it was—at least, originally he had not—he still wore it with pride.

It would keep the Headmaster's Legilimency from reading his mind, Peter had later been told. It would prevent a Legilimens from discovering his betrayal, he was also told. And foolishly he had believed that the artifact would only protect his mind—and did not think to wonder about any of the other functions it may have had. And so he wore it. He wore it gladly.

Until he learned of what it fully was.

But it was already too late by then.

_Yes, too late for you, Wormtail._ The voice was cold and harsh. It was hard as steel._ Much too late. But you have served well._

The artifact hadn't been given to him because his master trusted him, or favoured him—or to protect his mind against intrusion. He had been given it because of the exact opposite. He was mistrusted, believed weak, and utterly useless to the Dark Lord—unless he could be controlled completely.

_Yes, Wormtail, you are worthless._ Laughter, an insane laughter ringing and ringing within Peter's mind, sent shards of fear and terror through Peter._ You are weak and pathetic. Nothing but a worm with a tail. But you have become useful through my possession, and for that, Lord Voldemort is pleased. However, your discovery shall displease him most greatly. You should have woken me when the first accusation was made. You were a fool not to have done so. I will ensure that the Dark Lord is aware of this._

Peter watched as his body moved outside of his control, cloaked among Dark spells of concealment, as he stealthily made his way out from the castle. Behind him floated Severus Snape, the betrayer of the Dark Lord, who had been easily over-powered and bound before he could raise an alert.

It had been a close call with the sudden appearance of the Potter family, but McGonagall's arrival had covered their disturbance. Peter had been deathly terrified for a moment there, when he thought he would be caught. By James, no less.

_Perhaps you were frightened, fool, but those two _children_ would never have heard us if you had not tried to take control of your body from me,_ again Displeasure; it was most thick, coating the voice's every word._ I shall have to ask Lord Voldemort to punish you for that idiocy, as it seems my own lessons do not suffice._

Peter whimpered piteously within his mind, but kept his silence. He knew, already, the mental anguish he would undergo if he spoke without permission again.

_I see you can be trained. That is good. I must say, I was very disappointed that you fought against my control during the interrogation. But perhaps the punishment I gave you will teach you a lesson._

Peter realised with a start that they were outside the castle already, and fast approaching the outer perimeter of the defence wards of Hogwarts.

_Indeed. It is time to rejoin our Lord, and he will be pleased—though your discovery shall anger him a bit, I expect. Your hideous appearance will no doubt be questioned—and how embarrassing will it be for you, to have been marred so by a simple Bat-Bogey Hex?_

Resigned, Peter felt his hand move his wand outside of his control, and his magic Apparate him away.

And around his neck was the locket that controlled his body; a great and powerful artifact with the engravings of a serpentine letter _S_, tinted green and silver. Around his neck was the locket, the leash that tied him so effectively to his master.

Peter's mouth opened on its own and from it came out a high-pitched laughter.

* * *

**Ending Notes:**

Long chapter. Not too much action. This chapter is a set-up chapter for the next—which will be explosive, at least I hope so. (The next chapter is completely different from the original storyline—but don't worry! I'll bring the rewrite back to it shortly!) This chapter was slow and long, but I couldn't speed it up anymore. This is a very important chapter, and much of the future plot bunnies have been planted here—but I doubt you'd catch them all.

**I've made a _LiveJournal_ for all those who are curious as to the progress of the next chapter.** I have a rough outline posted, as well as posts regarding the next chapter—like brief overview and what not. The link is in my profile. Check it out, and leave a comment!

Anywho, not much to say for this chapter. **Peter Pettigrew** was acting so weird during the interrogation because of his possession. You may have noticed, if you looked carefully, how he avoided some questions, and was able to fool all three of them into believing him harmless.

Read the "_To be continued…."_ section for the date of the next upload. Happy **_reviewing!_**

Comments always welcome.

_-- liath_

! Updated: 4.20.06 -oOo- Revised: 08.28.06 !_

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_


	4. CH03: Fragment of a Soul, Part I

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_Chapter Three:_ Fragment of a Soul (Part I)

_by Taliath

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_

_A/N: This is the first part of the chapter. I couldn't fit it all into one. The next part will be posted tomorrow. I'm almost done with it. (7,500 words written for second part)  
_

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_

Harry woke up when he felt arms lift him and wrap around him, and sleepily heard the voices of his parents as they spoke to the nurse.

"... slept like an angel," he finally was awake enough to hear. "Nothing to worry about."

"Thank you so much, Madam Pomfrey," replied his mother. "We're really sorry to have bothered you so late at night with nothing serious."

"Nonsense, Lily, nonsense," replied the nurse briskly. "Besides, I perfectly understand. You two are new to parenthood, and your child's very first nightmare was bound to get you both shaken a little. Now, don't apologise; I won't accept it. Take the child and go; I heard you say you needed to visit your home today? Better get a start on that, then."

"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," said James, and Harry finally cracked his eyes blearily open. "Ah, how's our little Harry doing? Awake, finally?"

Harry gurgled tiredly in response, as his parents proceeded to the Great Hall. It was true he didn't have nightmares after he had been placed in the infirmary, but that didn't mean he had slept pleasantly. There was a deep uneasiness within him about today, Halloween, and it reflected in his not-so-pleasant, but not completely uncomfortable, rest.

Not to mention the helplessness that curdled within his gut—after all, if something _did_ happen today, what could he, a fifteen month-old baby, do?

"Sirius, Remus," called out James as they went down the last stairway to the Great Hall, and Harry, snuggled within his mother's arms, saw them both standing and talking to each other.

"James," answered Sirius with a smile. "Lily—and my godson!" He rushed over and pulled Harry away from a protesting Lily, hugging the baby. Harry squeaked as he was squeezed to death. _Sirius, you're killing me here!_

Remus laughed at Harry's protest. "Sirius, you're strangling the poor kid."

_Air! _thought Harry._ Need air!_

"Sirius Black, you will hand him over this instant," snapped a slightly irritated Lily, whose attempts to grab Harry back from his godfather failed, as Sirius danced quickly out of her reach.

"Aw, Lily, you're no fun," whined Sirius, and Harry knew that Sirius was only play-acting.

Lily groaned, snatching Harry back when Sirius proffered the baby to her. "Sirius, I told you never to whine like that again, didn't I? It's disgusting, coming from a grown man."

"I'm a grown man?" joked Sirius. "Whenever did that happen?"

"Oh, quit it, you two," interrupted James with a long-suffering tone. "You do this every time you guys meet with Harry along. Every single time."

Remus gave another chuckle. "And you, James, always say the same thing to them."

All four broke out in laughter, and Harry looked at them with a deep longing. _I never knew that. Remus never told me. It's a nice thing to know._

"Well, come on, then," said James, taking command of the situation. "Let's go eat breakfast—I don't know about you, but I'm starved."

Lily shook her head sadly. "Men!—Oh, and boys, too. All they ever think about is food." Then she looked down at Harry, smiling. "Promise mummy, Harry dear, that you won't think only about food when you grow to become a big boy."

Harry did the only thing he could; he giggled.

Sirius snorted. "Dream on, Lily, dream on. I'll be here to make him into a proper boy—one who'll only think about food. Oh, and girls too. Never forget them." At a glare from her, Sirius raised his arms up in defeat.

"Good morning, James, Lily," said Minerva as they approached the Head Table, around them the loud chatter of students creating a pleasant and cheerful atmosphere. "Sirius and Remus, you as well. Good morning to you all."

Harry looked around, and saw that Albus was missing—though he usually was in the morning—as well as several other staff members. _Probably aren't awake yet_. In fact, even Snape was missing. _He must be sleeping in from the late interrogation last night_.

After saying the usual pleasantries, Harry and his parents, as well as Sirius and Remus, got ready to eat breakfast—which was a very interesting experience, to say the least. For the first time in his life, he was forced to be hand-fed by someone, but it wasn't as weird as he had expected. Sure, his uncooperative muscles made him miss the spoon a few times, as his mother lifted them to his mouth—but he was getting better.

The very worst was that Minerva was unsuccessfully hiding an amused smile, and Harry glared whenever he could in her direction—but this just seemed to make her smile grow larger. ("Uh…Minerva?" said James nervously, scooting his chair a bit further away.) In fact, Harry could swear he heard her amused chuckle ("It's normal baby behaviour!" Lily said defensively) when he missed once and had a spoonful of porridge all over his nose and eyes.

"So, James, are we going to go to your home right after breakfast?" asked Remus when everyone was slowing down and nearly done.

James shook his head. "We'll need to talk to Dumbledore about the Fidelius first, and then we'll go."

"Yes," said Lily with a forcefulness that Harry did not understand. "We _all_ will go together."

Harry saw James sigh, and thought he knew why. _Mum wants to go too. And Dad doesn't want her to. They were probably arguing about it this morning._ "Yeah, we'll all go. Even Harry." There was a touch of irritation as he said that, and Harry rolled his eyes. _He doesn't want me to be there, obviously._ _Then again, it's not like they know something is going to happen—just the opposite, in fact. What could possibly happen? _

Lily only nodded, and soon breakfast was over.

After a quick cleaning spell that took care of the food stains on Harry, the group left for the Headmaster's office, leaving behind the last few straggler students, most of whom only had time enough to grab a piece of toast before rushing off to class. Within minutes, the family and friends made it up to the office and James used the brass knocker to alert him of their presence.

"Enter," called the warm, genial voice of Albus.

As they entered, Harry looked around and remembered suddenly what it used to be like—before he had destroyed much of the various gadgets after Sirius's death, before everything turned into hell. Large portraits of old Headmasters and Headmistresses still lined the walls, exotic figurines and shapes still cluttered shelves, and many tomes were still stacked neatly. _This going-back-in-time thing is getting rather disturbing_, Harry thought to himself, _and very strange. You know, someone could probably make a book out of Minerva's and my life—of course, no one would believe it, but I'm sure it'd be interesting, to say the least._

"Ah, yes, I knew I would be seeing you soon. Come in, come in, and do sit," said Albus when he saw them begin to file in. "Now, I know you have many questions to ask, but I must ask that you wait a moment while I bring you up to date." The Headmaster lifted a plate of sherbet lemons and asked them, "Perhaps a sherbet lemon to start with?"

Lily and Remus both refused, but James grabbed two and carefully unwrapped one for Harry, while Sirius nabbed a handful for himself. Albus's eyes twinkled merrily, and Harry very nearly rolled his eyes. _I forgot how playful Sirius could be, at times._

"Now, as you all know by now, Mr. Pettigrew has indeed changed his allegiance to Lord Voldemort, and has been divulging Order secrets to him for nearly a year now."

"_Bastard_," hissed Sirius, and James only shook his head, his eyes colder than ice. Harry looked at them both, and knew what they were feeling. After all, he, too, had experienced that cold feeling of utter betrayal from a close friend once, hadn't he?

"Our secret as well, Professor? Our location?" asked Lily.

Albus gravely nodded. "Indeed, he has, Lily. And it seems that Voldemort is planning to strike at your home tonight. It is my belief that your deaths, and the destruction of your home, is to be this Halloween's act of violence."

James grunted, and Lily closed her eyes briefly. _Peter_, thought Harry angrily, _you'd better watch out. When I'm big enough, I'm going to kick your skull in. Just you wait._

"So, what now? Can we still go to—" James's throat moved, but no sound escaped. With a sigh, he shook his head. "I can't say the location. Can we still go to our home? To pick a few things up?"

"I believe it will be all right. Voldemort has yet to know of Mr. Pettigrew's discovery, though I would stress that you practice immense caution. Lord Voldemort already knows of the location, and it is entirely possible that he may have entered without your knowledge to place hidden traps—"

"Impossible," cut in James. "The Potter wards would stop him. Or at least, it would have alerted me to the fact." _No, they wouldn't have. The Potter wards are ancient, but__ Voldemort__ is powerful. You trusted the Fidelius and the wards, and you were killed because of it._

"To underestimate Lord Voldemort is a folly you must never have," replied Albus wisely, obviously thinking along the same lines as Harry. "It is entirely possible that Voldemort may have found a way to get around your wards."

"James, shush," said Lily as James opened his mouth to argue. "It won't hurt us to be careful. And we will. We will."

"Very good, Lily," said Albus. "Now, I suggest you leave quickly and return soon. I shall be spreading word to the other Order members to be prepared and ready for tonight when Lord Voldemort strikes at your home. If all goes well, we may be able to capture many of his supporters and thus weaken the strength of his armies."

"What about the Fidelius charm?" asked Remus. "Have you broken it, Professor?"

"I am afraid that there are only two ways to end the spell, and I cannot do either." Shaking his head sadly, the Headmaster explained. "The first is the willing consent of all parties involved to release the Secret—which, you will undoubtedly find, will be impossible without Mr. Pettigrew's consent. The second is to destroy the foundation that the charm was locked into."

"Does that mean Remus and I can't go with James to his house?" asked Sirius.

"I'm afraid you must ask Lily that, as she is our resident Charms Mistress," replied Albus with his usual twinkle.

"Well?" said Sirius, turning to face Lily.

Lily frowned. "I suppose we can't get Peter—_Pettigrew_, I should say—to release it? Or at least to tell Remus and Sirius?"

Albus shook his head. "He cannot be coerced into it through any magical means, as you well know Lily—the Fidelius forbids it. And he refused to tell us willingly last night."

Nodding as if she expected that, she answered, "Well then, the only way I can think of to get around the Fidelius is to transfigure the both of you into inanimate objects until you're within the boundaries of the spell. It won't affect you once you're inside—of course, you wouldn't remember the location. But you shouldn't be forcefully ejected or anything like that."

"Great!" said Sirius cheerfully. "For a second there, I thought we'd be left behind." Sirius stood up and stretched. "Well? Let's get on it, then. How long do you think it'll take to pack up?"

"It should take no more than a few minutes in each room," said Lily. "I'll be the one packing up. James'll be going to the Potter vault."

James nodded. "I'm going to lock it up for now. Seal it until it's no longer in danger of Lord Voldemort."

"Very good," said the Headmaster. "However, if I may make a suggestion?" At their quick nods, he continued, "All four of you should keep your Order cards close at hand, so that you can raise an alert if, and I only say _if_, something were to happen. You will, of course, have to disable the Fidelius for the Portkeys to work."

"I'll handle that," said James. "The Foundation Key is in our family vault. I'll have to destroy it from down there."

"And I'll handle the lookout as—" Sirius hesitated in front of Albus "—I'll watch from outside." _He means he'll watch out as Padfoot_, realised Harry. _He doesn't know that Albus is already aware of their Animagi transformations_.

"I'm not sure I can be of much help to either of you," added Remus. "I'll be in the living room, keeping a lookout from there. Maybe I could take care of Harry?"

"You are bringing Harry along?" asked Albus, an eyebrow raised in question, just as Lily nodded.

"Yeah," replied James. "Lily and I decided it was best. Since I'm going to lock up the family vault at Godric's Hollow, it'd be nice to show Harry around before I do. I don't know how long it'll be sealed, but Harry won't be seeing the inside of it for a while, I think, and I'd like to show my son the Potter legacy before closing that door on him for a while."

"And, of course, you will tie Harry into the wards so that they will recognise him?" asked Albus. At James's nod, he continued, satisfied: "Wonderful! It seems everything is in order. I shall meet with Minerva soon to draw out our plans for tonight. Perhaps you could even be able to lay a few traps while you are there?"

Sirius saluted him with a smile. "I'll be on it."

"Excellent," said Albus. "Do remember to keep a lookout for anything suspicious, and know that you may be needed if Voldemort decides to strike elsewhere. Be prepared for anything—constant vigilance, as Alastor always says." _And don't I know it_, Harry thought wistfully._ He hammered that into me very well._

"Don't worry, Professor," Lily assured him. "We will all keep our Order cards safe. And I'll make sure the boys behave well." Sirius sighed, as though disappointed, and Harry nearly chuckled.

Albus nodded. "Thank you, Lily. Now, time is ticking away. Will you be using the Floo?"

"Yeah," said James. "We'll Floo to the village, then Apparate directly in."

"Good." Albus looked at each of them closely as thought measuring them, then nodded. "Well, off with you now. Do enjoy your trip."

Hogsmeade was fairly empty as the group exited from the Floo station at the Owl Post Office, and James, who was the best at Transfiguration, quickly turned Remus into a miniature figure of a wolf and Sirius into a dog figurine. James wore a rather smug smile as he handed them over to Harry to _play_ with. _He wants me to chew on them, I think. As babies usually do._ Not wanting to disappoint his father, Harry began to gently gnaw on them with his few teeth, and heard James let out a delighted laugh.

"James!" said Lily, appalled. She took the figurines from Harry and glared at her husband. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Oh, Lily," said James, wiping away tears. "Just imagine what Sirius and Remus are thinking right now."

Lily sighed and pulled out her wand, shaking her head all the while. But Harry, snuggled now within her arms, could see the grin that threatened to break out. "Let's go. I'll Apparate Harry."

With two pops they were gone, reappearing after a brief moment outside of Godric's Hollow. Harry saw, for the first time, the true beauty of the Potter manor before it had been destroyed. The Ancient and Noble House of Potter, the land on which generations of Potters had lived and died on, the ground that had belonged to his family since before they were even magical—Harry looked over and saw James relax as they entered the manor, hearing him whisper, "Home sweet home," to himself.

_Home sweet home_, thought Harry, a touch wistfully._ I wonder if I'd be able to say that some day. Maybe this time around I'll actually have a home to call sweet._

"James, you'd better turn Remus and Sirius back," said Lily briskly, bending over to place the two figurines on the carpeted floor. "We don't have all day, and frankly, I don't feel too comfortable right now."

James turned around to face them and Harry knew that James didn't feel the same uneasiness, but his father quickly cancelled his spells—and with two pops Sirius and Remus were back into their original, human forms.

"James, you idiot," said Sirius as he hastily stood, "how could you let Harry chew all over me?"

Remus groaned, and stood as well. "We'll have to do something about that later, Sirius. James, you won't be getting away with this."

James looked at them innocently. "Hey, don't blame me! Harry was the one who wanted to play with you guys."

"Ha, ha," said Sirius, disbelief clearly in his tone. "Whatever. I could still hear you, you know. Harry would have done no such thing if you didn't give us to him in the first place—"

"Guys," cut in Lily. "Really, we haven't got much time. I don't feel good about this at all. Can we please just get on with it?"

Remus raised an eyebrow, but Sirius only glared briefly at James before speaking, "Yeah, all right, Lily. I'll be watching out from outside, and I'll also put a few of my own spells for tonight's ambush. As long as I don't leave the boundaries I'm safe, right?"

Lily nodded quickly. "You should see a slightly different-coloured strip of grass lining the boundaries, which I've charmed. Don't go outside of it, and you'll be within the Fidelius."

"Good, good," said Sirius, nodding to himself. "See you in a bit, then." He turned and left, the door closing behind him.

"Here, Lily, give Harry to me. I'll go to the basement right now and disable the Fidelius. You sure you can handle all the packing by yourself?" James carefully hugged Harry close to himself with one arm as he spoke to Lily, the other holding his wand.

When Lily raised an eyebrow at him, Harry saw James shrug before leaving. "See you guys."

_Well, here we go_, thought Harry uneasily. _Now we're all split up. I hope nothing happens_.

* * *

Minerva watched Harry and his family leave the hall, and quickly stood to leave as well. She had much to do today, and most of it concerning private matters. She had no classes scheduled for that morning and part of the afternoon, and she fully planned to make use of the time. It took only a short walk to her office, and another short moment to locate her Floo powder. 

_My old office, almost unfamiliar to me now—isn't that amusing? _Grabbing a pinch, she quickly lit a fire and threw the powder in. "The Water House," she said into the green sparking flames as she stepped forward, and landed within a minute at her ancestral home, where she usually stayed during summer. The familiar sight of the large living room greeted her, and Minerva sighed. It had been so long she had stepped foot in here. It had been destroyed shortly after her first year as Headmistress, and she had never had a chance to pack up the precious heirlooms that were kept safe within her family vault. Indeed, she had nearly lost everything she owned when it was destroyed, except for the few things she had brought with her to Hogwarts.

Minerva walked down the large entrance hall, ignoring the milky, ever-swirling walls that her ancestors had spelled as she briskly went toward the hidden room that kept her family vault sealed to all but the head of the McGonagall family. Nodding quickly to the greetings hailed down to her from the portraits of all the past heads that lined the walls, Minerva swept along until she reached her destination.

_Better get this over with_, growled Minerva to herself. _I'll have to face her sometime. Better now than later_. She entered the hidden room, her face composed, and coolly glared at the portrait of her mother, the last head of the McGonagall family before Minerva, and a declared Dark witch.

"You're here, are you?" said her mother disdainfully, the Lady Athena Juno McGonagall.

"Mother," replied Minerva coolly. "Open the vault; I have nothing to say to you." Indeed, the day after Minerva had declared for the Light, she and her mother had had a very long _discussion_ that ended with Lady Athena nearly disowning her. Had it not been for Minerva's elder brother, her mother very well would have done it.

"You are not worthy to enter the family vault," snarled Lady Juno, her beautiful face twisted into something truly hideous.

"You will open it," said Minerva coldly. "I am the head of our family, and I demand it be opened." Every time she tried to enter the family vault, she had had to go through the same process—and she was sick of it.

It was always the _honour_ of the last head of family to guard the vault; indeed, some day her own portrait would hang there, watching over it. Her mouth twisted with distaste. _You should be glad, mother, that I honour this practice. Otherwise, I would have destroyed you long before now, the moment I became the head of the family._

The portrait swung open very reluctantly, and Minerva ignored the glare from her mother as she stepped inside. She quickly swept through the vault, knowing exactly what she needed and where it was located.

She really didn't understand her mother. The McGonagalls had always been a family of both Dark and Light. Each generation was allowed the freedom to choose, and the choice was always made when the children of that generation attained the rank of Master or Mistress in the art of Transfiguration. Minerva chose the Light as her grandmother before her, as Lady Junor chose the Dark after Minerva's father. Why did Lady Juno never understand?

Minerva paused when she reached her destination, a large shelf reserved for her own personal contributions to the family vault. The words _Minerva Athena McGonagall_ were engraved in elegant script on the shelf, and there were perhaps a dozen items spread across the smooth rock shelf. Reaching out, she closed her hand around an item located right in the middle, and lifted it up close so she could examine it closely. The item was exotic and strange, threads of gold twining in a complicated and chaotic manner, with two small hanging orbs whose surfaces rippled as though they were globes of a liquid substance. The orbs were a deep red, and as Minerva held them up, a small spark of golden light seemed to burst to life in the centers.

Carefully Minerva threaded the gold strings into her hair, and spun it in such as way so that it coiled around her head in a tight but comfortable net—it was a complex pattern, designed in such a way that the golden threads were hidden from casual sight within her hair. The orbs were the only visible part of the item that showed, hanging loosely against her temples.

Minerva felt it again when she finished, as she had long ago, the pride that came with wearing a _manifestation_. It had taken her nine years after Hogwarts to be given the privilege of starting to make her own _manifestation_ from her teachers, and three afterwards to finish it. To wear a _manifestation_ signified mastery of a certain subject—Transfigurations in her case. In fact, she was the second youngest to have attained the right in her family—the youngest being the very first McGonagall head of family.

_Oh, how proud Mother had been—until she learned of my oaths to the Light_, Minerva thought with regret. _No, now all she feels for me is contempt, and the worst is that I feel only the same for her._

Stepping away from her shelf, Minerva paused, then moved over to her elder brother's, Maximus Ortimus McGonagall, who had died decades ago, and picked up the ring he had left her after his death, the signet ring of the McGonagall family. She had left it on his shelf when he had died, when he had passed on the responsibility of the head to her. She had never worn it before, but now she knew she would. Her foolish sentimentality in leaving the ring on his shelf had, in the end, caused much grief for her. Had she worn it, she might have been able to save Nicolas. Had she worn it, she might have been able to save Albus.

_No. It will all change. We have a chance now, Harry and I. And we will not fail again_.

Minerva turned, and left her family vault. She was ready to face the future.

* * *

Sirius stepped out from the manor—the name of which he _still_ could not recall, the bloody spell—and turned to survey his battlefield. The estate was large, and the different-coloured line of grass far-flung. There was a double-lane cement road leading up to the house, but there were no other signs of human existence within sight—and probably not for miles. 

The Potter family had always been rich, and the manor was obviously built on a large estate. Rolling hills of smooth green, empty of trees for another two hundred yards, was all he could see from where he stood. Sirius shook his head. _It's too clear. When Death Eaters attack tonight, there'll be nothing to slow them down_.

Sirius grinned. Slowing people down was his specialty.

Raising his wand, he began.

* * *

Lily watched her husband leave the room with Harry, and slowly shook her head. _Nothing's going to happen right now_, she told herself firmly. _Later tonight, yes, but right now, I'm just a little stressed—nothing to worry about. _She turned and nodded to Remus. "I'll just be going then. To pack." She tensed when she again felt the hair on the back of her head stand again, but forced herself to relax. _Save your strength, woman. You'll be out fighting in a while._

Remus nodded. "I'll be here; yell for help if you need me." _Nothing will happen. Get a grip, Lily._

Tightening her grip on her wand, Lily briskly walked upstairs, towards her and her husband's rooms. A few charms later, the room was stripped and everything was miniaturised. She moved on. There were twenty-six rooms in the Potter manor, and she was down one.

_Twenty minutes_, she thought to herself as her magic spun. _Only twenty minutes. Nothing can happen in twenty minutes_.

Another room was stripped bare. Twenty-four were left.

_Merlin, please don't let anything happen. _

_

* * *

_

Remus slowly walked over to the living room, and sat down carefully on the expensive mauve-coloured couch. The whole room stank of wealth, and he shook his head sadly. He had been rich, too, once. Before he had been bitten as a child, and before his parents had unwisely spent all their money on false cures for his lycanthropy. He was grateful, truly he was, for their selflessness as they wasted out their lives searching for a cure to his lycanthropy, but nevertheless felt regret that they had left him penniless when they had died. Penniless and without a place to live.

Leaning back into the soft cushion, he took a few deep breaths to calm the turmoil of emotions within him. It was dangerous to be so emotional so close to the full moon. Emotions eroded control, and he could not afford to lose control of himself. He shuddered to think of what he might do if he did.

Remus relaxed, closing his eyes as he did. He wasn't being lazy, he told himself. He wasn't sleeping in on the job. He just hadn't had much sleep for the last few days, working extra shifts at low-paying jobs to earn a little more money. He was just going to rest his eyes a little. He deserved that, didn't he? And he would be better-rested for tonight's battle, wouldn't he?

_Besides, it's not like anything's going to happen now._

_

* * *

_

Harry watched as his father carefully headed down a hidden stairway deep underground. It was surprisingly clean, though, and the stairway was not at all made of the gothic worn-down stones that he was used to at Hogwarts, but was rather a white pearly marble that was both smooth and clean.

Small disks of light lit the way, and after a bit of walking they reached an underground cavern—a very large and empty underground cavern. _What? Why is it empty? Are there illusions, perhaps, that hide the true treasure from our eyes?_

James looked around for a second, but didn't seem surprised at all—which confirmed Harry's theory of illusions hiding everything. "Harry, look. This is the last line of defence for our family vault. We're right now in a pocket existing outside of reality." Suddenly, James groaned. "What am I doing? I'm explaining advanced magic to a baby." He just shook his head, and strode to the middle of the large cavern with Harry in his arms.

_A baby. That's how they all see me. I can tell this is going to be very annoying for the next few years. When will I be able to even talk and not sound abnormal?_

James' voice drew Harry out from his thoughts as he heard his father say in a deep, commanding voice, "_Sei litanea Potter fernun im Veril tesder er li nyera_."

Mouth opened in surprise, Harry watched as the large empty cavern dissolved before his very eyes, making him very dizzy, and with a flash turn into a sea of red and gold fire that roared and bellowed around them, stretching out as far as the eye could see. The fire shifted and turned, red and gold rippled, and suddenly it was gone. The sea of flames was doused, and before him lay the Potter family vault.

It wasn't as impressive as he'd hoped. The vault was much smaller than the cavern, and was neatly organised and structured. A circular room, it was well-lit, and as Harry looked around, he saw that while he and James had been standing in the middle of the cavern just moments ago, they were now located towards the side.

"Welcome to the Potter family vault, Harry," murmured James as he surveyed the room. "This is our vault, where the most sacred of our family's heirlooms are hidden and kept safe. This is our vault, more protected than Gringotts—but then again, harder to access." Harry saw him shake his head again. "I really don't know what I'm doing, Harry. It's not like you're going to understand what I'm saying." He sighed. "I'd better go disable the Fidelius."

And then Harry saw it, and he was impressed. There, glowing in ethereal light that shined _up_ from the floor, was a condensed shaft of gold and red mist—the Potters sure liked those colours, Harry thought—centered at the very heart of the vault. And within that mist of light were sparkles of different colored spheres of magic, bobbing and swirling through it, as though dancing in intricate designs known only to themselves. There were dozens of them, floating up and down, zigzagging almost as though sentient. The spheres spun and danced to a music of their own, complex and chaotic. That shaft of light must be the anchor, Harry realised, and those magical spheres the wards and enchantments that keep Godric's Hollow safe.He had seen a couple anchors such as this one several times in his past—but none were as brimming with enchantments as this one. Indeed, he was very impressed. _No wonder Voldemort waited until the night of Halloween to strike at this. His only chance of destroying the wards was to use the Dark magic that flowed freely during the darkest night of the year._

As James paused a foot from the mist, Harry looked at the brilliant dance of the magical spheres, and within his mind, he smiled coldly.

At least, this time, Voldemort would be caught unawares.

_

* * *

_

**Ending Notes:**

All right. I tried to fit it all in. But it didn't work.

**THIS IS THE FIRST _PART_ OF THE CHAPTER**.

I had over 13,000 words written so far, and decided just to split the chapter apart. All the goodies will come next chapter. Yes, the next chapter is the explosive one. And yes, I'll post it up as soon as I'm done! (7,500 words written on it, so far!)

Read the "_To be continued…."_ section for the date of the next upload. Happy **_reviewing!_**

Comments always welcome.

_-- liath_

! Updated: 5.01.06 -oOo- Revised: 08.28.06 !_

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_


	5. CH03: Fragment of a Soul, Part II

**_

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_ **

_Chapter Three:_ Fragment of a Soul (Part II)

_by Taliath

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_

_A/N: This is the second part, and starts immediately after the first. Read carefully, you might miss something important!

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_

Sirius crouched down in his Animagus form, hidden from plain sight behind a few concealment spells, and watched. _Fifteen minutes have passed since I came out here. I wonder how much longer it'll take Lily to pack up? And James hasn't disabled the Fideliusyet._

The flowing green grass before him seemed innocent enough, he thought as he looked around, and to anyone but Sirius, it looked perfectly normal. But to him, to him the grass was a marvelous mess of hidden spells and traps, of jinxes and hexes that lit up the grass in a multitude of different shades and colors. Not all of them were dangerous, of course, but that didn't mean they were harmless.

In fact, there were even spells laid outside the boundaries. He found that he could easily work hexes and jinxes from within the Fidelius's influence to affect areas outside of it.

Sirius couldn't help but feel satisfied with himself and his handiwork. It would certainly do a lot of damage to Voldemort and his Death Eaters tonight, and even if they came now, they would be slowed down greatly.

Yawning slightly, Sirius rested his eyes, confident that his sensitive ears would pick up any and all noise. There a slight breeze rustling the grass, and a peaceful silence—

_CRACK!_

The stillness was broken, and Sirius jerked his eyes open, taken completely by surprise.

_CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!_

There was a continuous roar of noise as dozens of hooded figures materialised right outside the boundaries of Godric's Hollow. _What the hell? Death Eaters! What the fuck are they doing attacking now? Damn it!_ Sirius transformed himself back into his human shape and tried to stand, just as the ground below him rumbled and powerful winds tore through the area, landing him flat on his back.

_BANG!_

Sirius felt satisfied at the triggering of his explosion spells, but when he was able to focus again, he was disappointed to find that the explosions had barely affected the Death Eaters. Indeed, he could see the blue-tinged magical shields protecting many of them from his magic._ Damn it!_ Sirius flicked his wand and released his other spells, and watched with narrowed eyes as nets of fire sprang up, as the ground broke open from under their feet, as the grass whipped around to wrap themselves around the Death Eaters—and grinned with triumph when his second line of spells easily bypassed their shields—

And his magic died. It was simply no longer there.

All of his spells laid down outside the boundaries winked out of existence, one by one. His carefully woven threads of hexes and jinxes, his hidden traps, his knots of curses—they evaporated. All that remained were the ones he had planted inside the wards.

_Oh, fuck, _Sirius thought to himself with dread. _Voldemort's here_. Frantically feeling out his Order card inside his pocket, Sirius quickly gripped it tightly, and spoke within his mind. _Code Black. Code Black!_ The card buzzed and turned cold in his grip, and Sirius sighed in relief, before turning to face Lord Voldemort. _Professor Dumbledore will know, now. He won't know where we are, but he'll be ready for when James disables the Fidelius_.

And there was Lord Voldemort. Darkness gathered where he stood; light shrunk away. Shadows sprang into being, and clouds shifted and coalesced above, hiding away the sun. His magic spread around him in a dark haze that had destroyed Sirius's spells of Light, broke them as though they were nothing but strands of thread. The dark haze writhed as though made up of thousands of snakes, and churned in a dizzying shroud of evil—but his dark magic did not pass the boundaries of the Potter wards.

"Sirius Black." The Dark Lord spoke, and Sirius shivered as he looked at Lord Voldemort, who stood no more than a hundred paces away, just outside the Potter grounds. "What are you waiting for? Should you not warn your precious Order of this attack?"

_I've already sent a message. You just don't know it._ Sirius lifted his wand before him, and knew he was a dead man—but he would die standing tall, cursing the Dark Lord with his last breath. After all, it would only be a matter of time before Lord Voldemort's magic broke the Potter wards—doing nothing would be futile. He would strike from behind the protection of the Potter wards before they fell.

"Do not anger me, child. Nothing you can throw at me, not even your most powerful spell, is enough to stop me," said Lord Voldemort coldly. "Now, call for help. Call for your Dumbledore. We are all waiting for you to do so."

Sirius finally found his voice, and knew he only had one shot. _He's right. I don't know any spells, except one, powerful enough to stop him—and though I don't want to cast it, I must. I have to. There is only this curse powerful enough. _Gathering his strength, Sirius glared at the Dark Lord, and roared with as much power as he could, "_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

And to Sirius's complete surprise, Lord Voldemort threw back his head and laughed, a high-pitched laughter that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The Killing Curse, the Unforgivable, the flash of green light sped and tore through the intervening space between them, tore through the air, tore through the ancient wards protecting the Potter house, and crashed harmlessly into a silvery mass that appeared before the Dark Lord.

"Thank you, Black," said Lord Voldemort as he stepped through the tear in the wards. "You have been most helpful. And now you shall die. _Avada Kedavra!_"

Green light flashed and the spell spiralled towards Sirius, who barely managed to dodge aside, cursing his stupidity under his breath. The Killing Curse flew by harmlessly and exploded against the ground far behind him, lighting the grass on fire. _Of course! Only a Dark spell from _inside_ the wards could break them. Damn it!_ Already he could feel the rest of his spells, the ones that were kept safe behind the wards, begin to wither and die as Lord Voldemort approached.

_To hell with it_, thought Sirius as he released all of his remaining spells. And like a whirlwind they sprang up, most of them evaporating before Lord Voldemort, but a few dozen slipping by and striking Death Eaters who were flooding in through the tear in the wards.

_James, you better hurry it up. We need help. Badly._

The ground beneath Sirius heaved, and a fountain of grass and dirt exploded up. He tumbled through the air and landed heavily ten feet away, rolling as he made contact. He was back on his feet a split second later, using the momentum from the roll to launch himself up, and formed a powerful shield around him as he recovered. It was not a moment too soon, as a powerful Dark spell slammed into it with enough force to make Sirius grit his teeth as the shield wavered, then held.

"Oh, Sirius, _Sirius_," called a familiar sing-song voice, and Sirius narrowed his eyes as he growled. "I've missed you so! Have you missed me? Your _dearest_ cousin Bella?"

Sirius felt anger burn deep within him as he glared at Bellatrix Lestrange, and beside her Rodolphus, her husband. Behind the two Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort had already dismissed Sirius and was heading up to the manor, other Death Eaters swarming before him. Sirius could see blasts of magic shoot out from within the house, and knew that Remus was holding his own as best he could.

_There's nothing I can do to help him. I'm stuck outside, and there's no way I'll be able to get through all the Death Eaters to the manor._ Sirius felt frustration and anger swirl within him, and growled within his mind, _James, you'd better get that Fidelius_ _down fast. Remus won't hold out much longer._

And in front of him were his cousin and her husband, two foolish Death Eaters who were perfect for Sirius to take his anger and frustration out on…

"Cousin Bellatrix. Rodolphus. A _pleasure_," said Sirius with a snarl, and curled his lips into a wintry smile.

Indeed, he would take great pleasure in destroying his cousin, and her husband.

* * *

Remus was startled awake when the multitude of cracking noises from Apparitions shattered the peaceful stillness of the manor, and felt panic grip his heart as his mind sped into overdrive. There was only one thing this could mean, he knew instantly. _Voldemort. He's here. And he's attacking. Merlin have mercy on us!_

Remus rolled off the couch and wiped away the drool on his chin, and just barely managed to catch his balance as the whole house shook. _Explosion hexes. _Sirius's handiwork, he knew.

And then there was an uneasy silence, and he sped towards one of the windows just as he heard Voldemort speak. _Light, he's trying to trick Sirius into casting a Dark spell. No, please, Sirius, don't fall for it._ But he watched in dismay as Sirius did a moment later, and felt utter terror when Lord Voldemort stepped past the ancient Potter wards with no trouble. _Merlin, help us!_

Remus turned away from the window and pulled out his wand, knowing he only had minutes before the enemy arrived. Glancing at all the openings into the home, he took a deep breath, then murmured, "_Decipio Clausus_." Magic drained out from him in a flood that sealed the doorways and the windows, flooding around him in an amount he knew was just a bit above average. He was not weak, nor considered very strong—but he was no slouch either.

When the spell ended, Remus was on his knees, breathing heavily, and felt magic in large amounts being hurdled around from the outside. _Sirius_, he thought to himself, _please be safe!_ Grunting at the effort it took to stand, Remus hobbled over to the same window he had been at just a minute before, and saw with wide-eyes as Sirius flew ten feet into the air and landed nearly as far away. _Merlin protect him. Protect us all._ Remus quickly took out his Order card and spoke to it clearly in his mind. _Code Black. Albus, please, hurry! Code Black_. He put it in his pocket when it flashed black and buzzed within his hand, and knew with certain satisfaction that his alert had been sent.

Turning back towards the window, he spotted Lord Voldemort, who was strolling towards the manor, his Death Eaters around him.

_Here we go_, thought Remus. He flicked his wand, and a small window was created within his seal, just wide enough for him to send curses and spells outside—then he struck.

_I am the best at Defense Against the Dark Arts_, he thought grimly to himself as he powered spell after spell. _Sirius may be the better dueler, James better at Transfiguration, but I am the best at defence_.

And he was also the last thing between Lord Voldemort and the Potters, for it was only they that the Dark Lord could be after.

Suddenly the seal cracked and sparks flew from the web of magic holding the doors tightly closed, and Remus dropped his wand as his head swam with dizziness. Again came the hammer-like _slam_ against his seal, and Remus grunted—writhing on the floor at the third.

The window before him crashed open as the sealing spell finally died, and Remus felt powerful hands grip his robes and lift him off his feet. Forcing himself to focus, his vision cleared and before him, holding him suspended in the air with bared teeth, was Fenrir Greyback.

His vision flashed red. He heard a howl, a roar of rage, and realized a moment later that the sound was coming from himself, his throat working to express himself as he lost control of emotions—rage and anger flooding his mind with nothing but the bloodlust of a werewolf.

_Greyback. Turned me into this. He cursed me. _Remus didn't know what he did, but suddenly he was free and Greyback was on the floor with a bloody cheek, and he found he didn't care. He was seeing almost nothing but the red of his rage, and he roared once more as his last conscious thought fled from his animalistic mind—his werewolf instincts taking control of his body. A werewolf in control of a human body, acting on the absolute hatred from Remus.

_I will tear him apart. _

Minerva sat calmly in the Headmaster's office, her irritation hidden within her mind. Albus had waylaid her just moments before, asking her to come to his office to prepare for tonight's ambush, ruining her plans for the day. _I'll have to do it some other day, it seems._

"Well, Albus, let us get on with it," said Minerva, nearly wincing when her tone came out a little more snappish than it should have. _Perhaps I've not as much control over my emotions than I thought_. "What are you waiting for?"

The Headmaster frowned. "I cannot seem to locate Severus. Have you seen him since our meeting last night?"

Minerva shook her head slowly. Come to think of it, neither had she. "He wasn't in the dining hall during breakfast," she said, just as puzzled. "Perhaps he is out gathering potions ingredients? You know he frequents the Forbidden Forest for the rare ones whenever he is free from class."

"Indeed," said Albus, but he seemed worried. "I am concerned for him, Minerva. He did not know of tonight's plot—and that speaks of distrust from Lord Voldemort."

_I never did think of that_, thought Minerva privately to herself. "Perhaps. But you mustn't worry yourself, Albus. He is a grown man, and can take care of himself."

Albus nodded. "True, very true. Nevertheless, it does—"

A deep, powerful music pierced the Headmaster's words as Fawkes suddenly glided down towards them, singing urgently. Minerva saw Albus freeze, as she herself did, at the interruption—and both felt dread, for it could only mean one thing.

Lord Voldemort was attacking. Someone had activated their Order card.

Albus wordlessly summoned his Order card, and Minerva leaned over to see what it said:

_8:14 AM – FRANK LONGBOTTOM – 13 Pirmont Drive, Helman and Augusta Longbottom Residence_

Minerva stared in shock. She knew that the younger Longbottoms were visiting their parents today for their annual Halloween get-together. Someone else knew as well, it seemed. Suddenly, words began appearing right below that one:

_8:15 AM – SIRIUS BLACK – Location Unknown_

_Harry! _Minerva briefly closed her eyes. _Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear. _What was happening? This didn't happen the first time around. What had changed? A single pebble thrown into a pond could cause great ripples, she knew, but how could a simple thing like Wormtail's revealing change so much? Could she and Harry have actually made things _worse_? _No_, she told herself firmly, _you must not dwell on these thoughts. Pull yourself together; you cannot afford to fall apart now_.

When she opened her eyes, she read another line,

_8:16 AM – REMUS LUPIN – Location Unknown_

Then another,

_8:16 AM – LILY POTTER – Location Unknown_

"Albus," she said, breaking the silence. "We must move quickly."

The Headmaster nodded and Minerva saw his eyes harden—and felt his magic awaken. _This is the Albus I once respected. Not the manipulating old Headmaster, but the great wizard who led battles and struck with might_. "I will rally the Order, Minerva. James has yet to disable the Fidelius; we cannot help him yet. I will direct our forces to Pirmont."

"As I will go to the Ministry to call on the Aurors," said Minerva, standing, understanding what Albus was saying. "To ready them for when James is able to release the Fidelius." _Even I cannot recall where it is. The Fidelius_ _needs to be broken!_

Then they parted ways; Albus in a flash of phoenix fire with Fawkes, and Minerva to the fireplace. As she repaired herself, she recalled what Lord Gryffindor had written in his journals once, when he had prepared for battle as she did.

_Let the song of battle be sung, the dance of conflict be danced. May Merlin watch over our combat, and protect those of Light_. _We go to war, we go to fight. The Light shall triumph once more._

Spinning from fireplace to fireplace within the Floo network, Minerva suddenly smiled, and knew all would be all right.

For the Manor of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter could be found at Godric's Hollow.

James had disabled the Fidelius.

* * *

Lily put away her Order card, and knew she had not much time. She was currently in Harry's room, and felt relief that she had yet to strip it bare and shrink it.

_I can still Call him, then_.

Quickly moving over to his crib, she flicked her wand at the stuffed pillow and summoned to her a cord of braided red hair that had been placed in the center of it, hidden within the stuffing of the pillow. _The hair of the mother, placed by its head; the child of mother's heart, Called to its bed_. She had initiated this ritual of Calling when Harry had been born, thinking that it might one day be useful. It was a spell that all pureblood mothers initiated to protect their children, and she had done the same. _Now it might be the very thing that saves Harry from death. I am glad I borrowed that book from Alice._

"_Citatio mei liber _Harry_ lectus_," she said, her wand in one hand and her hair the other, and watched closely as the cord of hair in her hand flashed in sudden heat then disappeared. _Please, let this work. Bring Harry to me._ Downstairs Lily heard a crash, and knew the boundaries of the manor itself had been breached. _Harry, come to me. _She knew James would recognizing the ritual and would not worry if their son disappeared by its Calling.

A mass of red hair appeared in the crib, like a ball of thread cocooned into the shape of a baby—then the hair vanished, and before Lily was Harry.

The baby quietly looked up at her, with strangely _intelligent_ green eyes, and Lily felt a tear drop from her eyes. _My poor baby, I can't let you die._ She picked him up gently, and reached again for her Order card, hoping that the emergency Portkey might work.

It didn't.

There was no escape. Lord Voldemort would probably have already raised his own wards to prevent any escape. He had done so many times whenever he attacked wizarding families.

_We are doomed. We will all die. There is no escape. Lord Voldemort is here, and he is here to kill us all. Even Harry. Oh, Harry._

"Harry," she said, her voice choked with emotions. "Whatever happens, know that I love you. I love you so much." Her voice cracked once again, and another few tears rolled down her cheeks as she placed Harry back into the crib, and blinked away more as she repaired the pillow. She continued again, once she thought her emotions were under control. "Even if I die tonight, I cannot let you die. You are my life, Harry. And I will give it freely to save you." She breathed in deeply. "I love you so much."

Lily gripped her wand tightly, her Manifestation, and prepared to face the power of Lord Voldemort—and in her heart, she prepared herself to die.

* * *

James sealed his family vault, calling on the most powerful and the ancient locks, and knew a moment later that the vault was safe and impossible to reach until he opened it. Or until Harry opened it. _Lily, keep Harry safe. He may be our last hope, and he _is_ our future._ He had recognised the Calling that took Harry away, and felt relief that Lily was protecting their child. There was no one else he could trust to keep their son safe other than her.

_The Potter vault is safe from Lord Voldemort. The heirlooms of Lord Gryffindor and the Potter house are safe._

Taking a deep breath, James finally turned around, and quickly headed back up the stairway. He, as the head of the Potter family, could already feel the heated battle taking place above on the ground, could feel even now as Aurors Apparated in, and knew he would be joining them in battle soon. _Lord Voldemort has dared to attack me and my family, in _my_ house._

The moment he had felt Voldemort appear eight minutes ago, the moment he had felt the tear in the wards, he had immediately immersed himself within the golden heart of Godric's Hollow and spent several minutes unraveling the Fidelius from the heart, dissolving it at last. He had then used the very magic imbued within the Potter grounds to stop the Dark Lord's advance, creating trenches that opened up the ground beneath Death Eaters, making the doors and the windows disappear, asking the furniture to animate and move against the walls to reinforce them. He had reached out with the couch in his living room to pin the werewolf Greyback down when Remus lost consciousness, he had shifted and hid the room Lily and Harry were located within, and finally, he had used nearly the rest of the magical reserves to power the seals to lock away the family vault.

Eight minutes had passed. Help now arrived.

Gritting his teeth in anger, James stepped out through the hidden stairway to the basement of his home, and with a flick of his wand sealed the stairway as well.

James suddenly felt one of his fingers sting with an icy coldness, and ducked immediately as the Potter signet ring warned him of danger. Bits of shattered stone and marble fell with loud crashes as a spell exploded against the wall now above his head—which would have been where his upper chest might have been if he hadn't ducked quickly.

_Contego! _James rolled onto his feet and saw the bluish glow of his shield before him, and whirled around to face his enemy.

It was Peter Pettigrew, with half his nose still missing.

"Peter," James hissed, thoughts racing through his mind until finally everything came together. "You escaped somehow. You told him, didn't you? You told Lord Voldemort we were here!"

"You are quick to catch on, Potter," said the man coldly, and James narrowed his eyes. _This isn't the way Peter acts. What's happening?_

"Shut up, _Pettigrew_," said James, lifting his point to point it at his former friend. "You were always stupid, always thinking you were better than you were." James slowly shook his head. "You shouldn't have come here, Pettigrew. Because now, Dumbledore isn't here to protect you."

_Discerpo! _James flicked his wand and a bolt of light spat out from the tip of it, racing towards Pettigrew—but arched an eyebrow when the rat waved his wand and the spell returned back to him. He waved his wand, dispelling his own spell with ease.

_Interesting_, he thought_. He's better than I thought. No matter. It'll give me more satisfaction when I break him_.

"So quick to attack," drawled Pettigrew, still unmoving from his spot on the last steps leading to the first floor of the manor. "You Gryffindors are fools."

James narrowed his eyes. _What did he mean by that?_ "That, coming from a Gryffindor," said James, snorting.

Pettigrew smiled darkly, and James forced himself not to shudder. _What's going on?_ "James, James, _James_, one of the last defenders of Gryffindor's treasures, _you_ are the stupid one. Now. Go back downstairs with me and open your family vault. There is an item there that my Lord Voldemort desires, and he is willing to spare your wife for it."

Lily. What about Harry? James shook his head. "I'm disappointed in you, Pettigrew. Did you actually think I'd do it?"

Finally Pettigrew moved, walking down the last few steps, as he chuckled. "No, Potter. I rather hoped you would not. You see, I promised Wormtail that I'd _beat you up _for him. And it won't hurt me to keep my promise, this time." What the hell? Since when did Pettigrew talk about himself in third person?

James' eyes widened as the traitor's wand flicked suddenly in his direction and his blue shield crumbled. _Bloody hell!_ James jumped away from where he stood and raised his wand, another shield wordlessly brought up, just as Pettigrew struck again.

_Bloody bastard, why is he so fast?_ James moved again, but this time struck with his own spell. _Pulsus Flamma!_ A roar of flames burst from his wand just as a red ball of magic erupted from Pettigrew's and the two spells exploded as they struck each other. But James had already expected this, and had another spell ready to cast the next moment after his first. _Erradico Separte!_

Pettigrew summoned a large chunk of stone that littered the floor and James's spell hit it, dissolving stone to nothing within seconds.

"I'm getting bored, Potter," said Pettigrew. "I thought you were an Auror. One of the best out on the field, I've been told. Well? Shall I _up_ the challenge? Very well. _Cruc_—"

The floor exploded and Pettigrew flew.

_I think I'll enjoy this duel. We'll see who wins. _

_

* * *

_

Minerva materialised just outside of Godric's Hollow, and heard behind her the various noises as a squadron of Aurors, led by Alastor Moody, Apparated in as well. Eight_ minutes have passed since the alert, and already Godric's Hollow is in ruins_.

"Do whatever is necessary to stop them, Alastor," said Minerva as she surveyed the Potter grounds. The house seemed to be sealed completely, there were no windows or doors, and several dozen Death Eaters were lingering outside, trying to break through.

_Interesting. _It seemed James had sealed his homeMinerva's eyes widened suddenly. _What is that? _There, off to the side, was Sirius Black, dueling against two Death Eaters, ignored by the rest of the Death Eaters. _Two _very_ powerful and talented Death Eaters, if they're spells were anything to go by! _"I see no sign of Lord Voldemort. He may already be inside."

"All right, lads," growled Moody from behind her. "I'm authorising you to use any and all spells necessary to incapacitate them—just don't kill 'em. Work together and remember, _constant vigilance_!"

Minerva watched as Moody led his squad through the tear in the wards and quickly attack the unsuspecting Death Eaters, a small strike force against a far more numerous foe, and stepped in after them. _More Aurors will be coming_, she thought._ Hopefully soon. And I wonder how Albus is faring with—_

There was an almost silent whisper from her side and Minerva spun, instinctively flicking her wand out. A spell struck against her defensive net and a surge of power rippled away from the collision, forcing her to take a step back. _Powerful, too powerful for a regular Death Eater!_ This sort of attack could have only been from an inner circle member.

Already Minerva was spinning out of the way, her wand drawing up grass and dirt from around her as she flung them up in a hazy cloud that covered and hid her from plain sight. By the end of her spin, the mess of grass and leaves was already destroyed and cleared, but Minerva was ready.

A net of fire spun out from her wand and shot out in the general direction of her enemy, a foundation of dirt exploded from before her and twisted at her command, and she struck them both as hard as she could against the Death Eater—and felt surprise as they bounced off a defence net very similar to her own.

_Indeed. Very surprising. _Minerva hastily transfigured the grass before her, and a flash of the green Killing Curse destroyed the board of wood that materialised before her. _Enough!_

Minerva swung her wand and a dozen darts shot from her wand towards her opponent—and she was forced to shifted away when the darts exploded into shards of purple fire that flickered around and shot back against her. _This is one powerful Death Eater!_ A fountain of water whipped out from her wand, spiralling around her and dousing the flames as they drew near.

_Abeo Flammera! _she commanded within her mind, and the fountain of water burst into a bright yellow tongue of flames that whipped around towards the Death Eater, who jumped aside and flicked his own wand against her.

Minerva winced as her defensive net shattered against a shimmering red sphere that had exploded from the Death Eater's wand, and one of her Manifestation orbs grew a little cold against her temple._ You will not get away with that_, she thought angrily, and flicked her own wand in a powerful gesture that flung her power out before her—

—and destroyed the Death Eater's own net of defence.

"It has been a while since I was so well challenged," said a cool, musical voice from the Death Eater. "Minerva, it has been too long since we last met."

Minerva paused. She knew that voice. She would recognise it in her sleep. _Lysandra Yaxley_. The murderer who had killed Minerva's brother. There had been no proof, but Minerva had always _known_ it was her. And now she stood before Minerva; the murderer had sought Minerva out.Forcing those thoughts away, Minerva narrowed her eyes and spoke coldly, "Indeed, Yaxley, it has been a while."

Yaxley laughed delightedly. "Still so _bitter_, Minerva? You really must let go of the past. It was quite an _accident_, what happened to your brother. Do not blame his death on _me_."

_Accident, what accident? You tricked him into your rooms, and poisoned him with your wine. Just so you could finish at the top of your class. _Minerva tightened her grip on her wand. _You committed suicide last time when Lord Voldemort had been defeated by the baby Harry, instead of surrendering yourself to the dozen Aurors the Ministry sent after you._

Minerva smiled, baring her teeth, and watched in satisfaction as Yaxley tensed before her. _This time, you will not be so lucky_.

* * *

Harry wanted to curse. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout in anger. But most of all, he wanted to fight. And he couldn't. _I'm a baby. I'm lying here, watching my mother prepare herself to fight, and I can't help._

At this very moment, Harry hated himself. He hated life. He hated the fucking world. He _hated_.

Outside there was a battle raging. Outside there were people dying. Outside there was Lord Voldemort.

And in front of him was his mother; below in the vault was his father. _Harry, I love you so much_. Lily's voice. His mother's voice, whose life might very well end today.

_Harry, it is imperative that our time traveling remains secret_. Minerva's voice. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't speak out. He couldn't open his mouth and tell his mum how much he loved her.

Suddenly, Harry made up his mind. _Fuck secrecy. Damn it all!_

He _would _tell his mother. He would tell her he loved her.

He opened his mouth—

—and the far wall exploded in a whirlwind of fire and wood.

Lord Voldemort had arrived.

* * *

Minerva looked down at the slug before her, trying to calm her harsh breathing, and tiredly brushed away a few wisps of hair from her face. _It is done. _She slammed her boot down, and crushed the slug. _Justice has been served_.

Both of the orbs against her temple were cool against her skin, and she knew it would be a while before they could be used again._ The battle is not yet over, Minerva. There is still much to do_.

Indeed, as she finally looked up and surveyed how the battle was going, she was startled to see that several more teams of Aurors had arrived without her noticing, and the battle was raging heavily. Trenches had been dug, mounds of earth were formed, and bolts of light flickered everywhere. Aurors and Death Eaters battled fiercely, neither side with the upper hand.

_This will need to end soon_, she thought fiercely_. We are at a stalemate, and prolonging this will only cause more death. _Quickly casting a wordless Tempus charm, Minerva was surprised to find that only about forty minutes had passed by since the alert. _Only forty minutes! _

Flicking her wand, she called up another defensive net and went in search for Alastor Moody, who was currently duelling, she saw, Evan Rosier. _Alastor has always had a particular dislike of this Death Eater. Perhaps it is because Alastor lost a part of his nose to him?_

"Alastor, I hope I'm not bothering you," she called out.

"Not at all, Minerva," said Moody, turning to face her. His magical eye was pointed off towards the side, where Rosier was. "What can I do for you?" He flicked his wand and a spell from Rosier twisted midair and shot back at him.

"Can you see the Dark Lord?"

"One moment," said Moody. He faced to face Rosier with his good eye, and Minerva knew that his other eye was roaming around, trying to find Lord Voldemort. "Yep! He's in the manor right now, McGonagall. You might want to hurry. He's found Lily and Harry. Up the stairs, the wall towards the end of the hallway."

"Thank you," she called, but winced when Rosier managed to slip a curse by and create a large gash across Moody's thigh.

Moody waved her away, and as Minerva quickly strode to the house, she heard distantly him yell, "_CONSTANT VIGILANCE!_"

_There is not much time. Lord Voldemort is on them. Albus is not here to stop him. It seems I must face him again_. As Minerva neared the house, her wand absentmindedly conjuring shields and transfiguring grass and dirt to stop spells from reaching her, she had to stop herself from shuddering. _I have faced him before. Three times in fact. Four, if the brief encounter in the Headmistress's backroom counts. This is no different. I have survived him, I can do so again_.

Of course, the third time she had faced him, he had nearly torn her left arm away, and shattered all the bones in her right leg—but still, she had survived. Now, how would be get into the Manor? She knew Death Eaters and Aurors had been trying for a while—what did she have?

Narrowing her eyes, Minerva searched for a weakness, a place where she could force open the wall—but there was none. Of course there wasn't. If there had been, the Death Eaters would have been all over it by now. Frowning thoughtfully, forcing her irritation and panic away—ruthlessly eliminating any_ hurry_, which she knew would be detrimental—Minerva looked around her, ignoring the yells and screams of others as the battle waged before her eyes. The manor was no longer the focal point, it seemed. In fact, both sides were completely ignoring it, and as she stood right next to a wall, hidden within the shade of the manor, no one realised she was there.

_Perhaps_, she suddenly thought to herself,_ I can reason with the manor. Could it be sentient, like Hogwarts?_ Well, there was only one way to find out. Tapping the wall with her wand, as that was what usually initiated a magical conversation, she spoke clearly to the wooden boards, "I am Minerva McGonagall, a declared Light witch, and close friends with the Potters. Will you allow me entry, so that I may keep them safe?"

For a moment, nothing happened, and Minerva very nearly sighed—before there was a small groan, and the wall before her bent inwards. _The manor truly is alive. Interesting_. She stepped inside, turning quickly to glance behind her to see if anyone noticed, but felt relief when she was still ignored. In any case, it was better to be safe rather than sorry, and Minerva quickly conjured other boards of wood that fit in perfectly and sealed shut the opening. "Thank you," she told the manor.

A growl from the corner of the room surprised Minerva, and she quickly lifted her wand, narrowing her eyes as she saw Greyback pinned to the floor by a large couch, four of its legs merging into the carpet itself. The werewolf was a bloody mess; patches of his hair were missing, apparently having been ripped off; his eyes were swollen and his face was puffed up in areas—but he was still conscious.

_Did the _furniture_ do that do him? _Minerva wondered briefly, but then saw Remus Lupin over by the corner, and realised quickly that no, it had not been the furniture, but her former student who had caused such physical damage to the feared Greyback. Remus's head was bleeding profusely, Minerva noted, and one of his arms was bent at a strange angle. _At least he is breathing_, she thought. _He is still alive_.

"Greyback," she said loudly in anger, and met his glare coldly. _So many children have been kidnapped by this werewolf, so many given the curse because of him_. _He is responsible for ruining the lives of hundreds of people_. _He is responsible for Remus's deprived childhood, as well as the discrimination he faces now as an adult_. "This is, I'm afraid, going to be your last hunt," she continued commandingly. "I judge and condemn you, Fenrir Greyback. The Light witness my justice, and protect me from retribution." Minerva pointed her wand at him, and focused all of her power into a single spell, a single powerful spell, a single powerful _permanent_ spell.

There was a loud crack, and Greyback howled and screamed, thrashing from where he was pinned. Then he was silent, and the couch lifted off from him, detaching itself from the floor. Minerva took in a deep breath, then released it audibly. _I seem to be dishing out much justice today._ She winced as she heard a loud explosion above. _And it seems there is one more I must see to_.

She left quickly, taking just a moment to place a magical stasis on Remus—freezing him in the current state that he was—before spotting the stairway and racing up towards where she had heard the explosion.

And behind her, lying unconscious within the living room, judged and condemned by a powerful Light witch, by one of the most talented Transfiguration Mistresses, was Fenrir Greyback, the ferret.

Harry froze as Lord Voldemort entered, his dark magic coiled around him like writhing snakes, and knew with horror that right now, at this moment, he was utterly _useless_. It was not a feeling he enjoyed.

Then his mother struck, her wand flung out before her, and light magic heaved with a large _thwap_ noise as wind roared—her power was like liquid, like flowing water, and like a waterfall it came crashing down, exploding against the darkness that was the Dark Lord's magic. Harry saw Lord Voldemort's sharp intake of breath and felt pride bloom in his heart, but terror quickly replaced it as the Dark Lord hissed, and Lily was blown away as though she were nothing but a rag, her magic shredding apart.

"Lily Potter," he said, his voice harsh and cold. "Is this any way to welcome a guest you invited into your home?"

Harry watched with wide eyes, unable to move, as his mother struggled to stand. "Invited you?" she rasped, her wand still clutched tightly in her hand.

"Oh, but yes, you did," said Lord Voldemort, amused. "The moment you utilized the Fidelius, you challenged me to find you. The moment you withdrew to your ancestral home, you dared me to come. And now I am here, and I must admit, I find your hospitality less than welcoming."

"I would have it no other way," said Lily Potter, her eyes flashing—then she struck again.

The floorboards beneath Lord Voldemort exploded, Lily's magic eating through the wood in a flash, and a large hole, wide enough for someone to fall through, appeared beneath the Dark Lord's feet. The hooded figure did not fall, however, and he stood suspended, his magic coiled around him and holding him up.

"I am beginning to get annoyed, girl," he said harshly. "It is time a Mudblood like yourself learns your place in life. _Crucio!_"

Lily screamed. She was on the floor, convulsing as a flood of pain tortured her body—

—and Harry screamed in rage, a scream of pure anger and fear, needing no words, but it was enough.

The very air within the room turned to fire, light flooded the room with a burst of power, and the untamed magic residing within the baby rose up to challenge the might of Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord took one step back, then another, as power almost as strong as his own struck him again and again, catching him completely unawares. The curse on Lily ended abruptly as wild magic broke loose within the room, and Lord Voldemort screamed in anger—then fought back.

The very air within the room turned to ice, darkness flooded the room with a burst of power, and the wild darkness of Lord Voldemort ruthlessly tore through the baby's untamed magic.

Harry screamed, this time in pain, as his magic was torn apart.

"I have heard of you, _boy_," hissed the Dark Lord through the turmoil, his voice ringing with power and authority. "Possessed, are you? The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, _child_?"

There was silence. Lord Voldemort's magic drew back abruptly and Harry lay panting in his crib. He looked up slowly, shuddering weakly as Lord Voldemort spoke, and saw that the Dark Lord had his wand pointed in his direction, "You are dangerous; I see that now. I will not toy with you any longer. I had hoped your death would serve me as my last insurance of immortality, but I cannot let you live any longer than this moment on the chance that you might escape my wrath."

From beneath the crib, on the floor, Harry could hear Lily whispering, "No, please, no. No, no, no. No."

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

Green light flashed. Death whispered as a rush of wind. Harry's green eyes reflected the emerald light of the Killing Curse. Time slowed.

_I failed. I came back to stop him. Now, I won't even live past Halloween._

"_NO!_"

Lily Potter's voice. _Mum, I'm sorry. I couldn't tell you I loved you. But don't worry, Minerva will carry out the fight. Minerva will carry out the fight._

Minerva. _Minerva!_

A physical shield of bronze appeared before Harry's eyes, between the incoming curse and him, and reflected the curse of death. Lord Voldemort roared with anger.

And there she was. Minerva McGonagall had arrived. There, right by the torn-down wall, behind Lord Voldemort, she stood with her wand raised, a few wisps of her hair escaping her tight bun, but still powerful and commanding. She flicked her wand and banished the bronze shield.

The Dark Lord swung around and seemed to freeze when he saw her. _I bet he was expecting to see Dumbledore. He definitely did not expect to see Minerva coming to the rescue_.

"Mr. Riddle," she said coldly as she entered, and Harry couldn't help but grin. She flicked her wand, and Harry's crib jumped and became animated, moving towards the corner of the room, while several blankets lifted off Harry and wrapped themselves around Lily, helping her stand, then leading her to Harry's crib.

"McGonagall," said Lord Voldemort. "I see that Dumbledore took the bait for the Longbottoms."

Longbottoms? What did he mean? Harry wondered. Did he attack them too?

"Always the Slytherin," Minerva replied, her wand steady before her. "I remember you from Hogwarts, Mr. Riddle."

"Of course," said Lord Voldemort coldly. "You gave me a week of detention for cursing a student; a Gryffindor, I recall?"

"Indeed, you were quite full of yourself, making it so that _everyone_ knew it was you," she replied frostily.

"And you, McGonagall," he hissed with anger, "were the epitome of a Gryffindor—simply assigning detentions and never taking revenge for your student's plight."

Then they danced. There was no other way to describe it. It was not the wildness of enormous magic clashing together, nor the screaming and raging of Light and Dark magic exploding as they collided. It was not the chaotic manner of lesser duels between weak-willed wizards and witches, but it was the intricate dance between two powerful people who were both master and mistress of their art—Minerva of Transfiguration, Lord Voldemort of the Dark Arts. Precise and controlled, no gesture wasted, they struck against each other.

And it was very apparent, to Harry at least, that Minerva was weakening fast. She had probably already been duelling with other Death Eaters, by the looks of her appearance when she arrived, as opposed to Lord Voldemort, who had probably done nothing useful to help his minions.

Suddenly a spell got through her shield, and Minerva grunted when her right arm was dislocated from her shoulder, and quickly exchanged the grip of her wand to her left hand. Lord Voldemort laughed, his voice a high-pitch cackle that made the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand up.

"Surely you can do better," hissed the Dark Lord as he destroyed a spell from Minerva. "Unfortunately, you will have no further chance to try. I'm afraid my time is valuable and rather limited at the moment. And as enjoyable as this has been, it is time to end this triviality. I have people to kill, you understand."

Then it happened. Before Harry could react, before Lily could react, before Minerva could react, Lord Voldemort's frenzied magic spun and exploded, soaring with a shriek of evil, then slammed into Minerva. It wasn't a spell—the Dark Lord's magic was unformed--simply a blast of his own darkness, a sledgehammer of sheer power that he struck with all his might. There were no sharp edges. It did not break Minerva's shield. It simply, simply, _pushed_.

Minerva screamed as she was launched into the air, her defence net destroying the wooden wall behind her as she soared—then she was out, away, through the wall into the open sky outside the manor.

And Voldemort laughed. He threw back his head and cackled with the same high pitch he always used. He shook with insane delight, and his magic laughed with him. It hissed with pleasure, relishing with its master.

Then he froze. His laughter died abruptly, his magic stilled. He turned and faced Lily and Harry in the corner. "Now, it is your turn to die," he said, cold and harsh.

"No!" said Lily as she stumbled forward. "Spare him! Take me instead. Please, spare him!"

"Stand aside, girl," he said. "You need not die tonight."

"No, please, spare him. Take me. Kill me. Torture me! Just leave him alone! Please."

"Stand aside!"

"_No!_"

Harry watched as Lord Voldemort flicked his wand and Lily choked, her hands trying to pry invisible fingers from her throat.

"How dare you disobey me, you filthy Mudblood?" hissed the Dark Lord coldly. "It seems you shall learn one final lesson before you pass on into oblivion, my dear. _Cru_—"

_No. That is quite enough. You are hurting my mother. You are hurting MY MOTHER!_

"_Sthop dat!_" Harry yelled, using his mouth to speak for the very first time since he came back.

Everybody froze. Everything froze.

Lily was released from the spell, for the Dark Lord lost control of it in his shock.

She, herself, whipped around to face Harry, the look of utter surprise on her face.

Harry tried to stand, and found he could if he leaned against the crib walls. "Sthop hurting my mum! You fuh-ing loother!"

"Possessed," hissed the Dark Lord to himself quietly. Lord Voldemort pointed his wand at Harry. "_Legilimens!_"

_Love. Use love as your shield, Harry_. Nicolas's voice. _Love is your strength, and Lord Voldemort cannot stand it. When you face him within your mind, love is your best bet._

Harry thought of his mother, he thought of his father. He thought of Ron and Hermione, and of Luna. He thought of Hagrid, he thought of Minerva.

_I love them all_.

Lily's voice. _I love you so much_.

And within all this love, he drove them home with the final thought. _I cannot let him have my secrets!_ Harry could not allow Lord Voldemort to know his past.

Lord Voldemort screamed in rage, and stumbled a few steps back from where he stood, gripping his head tightly in reaction to the pain.

Harry saw Lily suddenly lunge for her wand, which had been on the floor near Lord Voldemort, and spin around to face the Dark Lord. _Yes, mum, take him down when he's distracted!_ But before she could cast a spell, the Dark Lord waved his wand, and Lily was blown away, her head striking the wall with a loud sickening _crunch_, and Harry screamed in rage, "I twold you to _sthop hurting my mum! _I hate you, Riddle! I'm gonna fuh-ing _kill _you thomeday!"

But to Harry's complete surprise, Lord Voldemort only looked at him. His black hood covered his face, but Harry could feel his puzzlement. "Harry James Potter," he said slowly. "Harry _Potter_. The Boy Who Lived?" _What? _

The Dark Lord shook his head, as though greatly confused. He seemed to look around the room, the hood turning this way and that. "Last night. I remember this place. I have been here before."

_What is going on? _thought Harry. _How the hell did he know about the Boy Who Lived? He couldn't have read it from my mind—it's too well-protected!_

"Halloween. Night," Lord Voldemort hissed. "I… must think on this. _The Boy Who Lived_."

The Dark Lord turned and looked out at the battlefield from the tear in the wall. Harry watched him, and in the back of his mind, he began to realise what was happening.

_Lord Voldemort somehow remembers the future. A little bit of it. How? Did a part of his soul travel back in time with us? How the hell? _Harry tried to stop from panicking. _This is bad. Really bad. Fucking hell, bad!_

"_Morsmordre!_" A sickly green spat out from Lord Voldemort's wand, and the fighting outside seemed to quiet for an instant. The Dark Mark formed, a large ghastly sight, and from under it Death Eaters began Portkeying away.

"Scar. A _lightning scar_." Lord Voldemort turned back to face Harry, who was still frozen in shock. "You are a very interesting baby, Harry Potter. Back from the future, no less. I can see that things will become very interesting indeed." The hood bowed slightly. "I shall bid you a good day, then. We shall meet again soon."

Then he was gone—by Portkey, Harry assumed, or even Apparition; he wasn't sure nor did he care—leaving behind destruction and mayhem. Leaving behind death and injury. Leaving behind chaos.

And for Minerva—_Merlin, please let her be alive and safe_—and himself, the future did not look quite as promising as it had just hours ago.

_

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**Ending Notes:**

**THIS IS THE SECOND, and LAST,_PART_ OF THE third CHAPTER**.

I hope you liked the battle. Man, this took a lot out of me. _And_ you get two chapter-length updates in the span of two days! Yeah!

To those confused by **Lord Voldemort**'s actions: his mental attack on Harry brought back memories. You see, a fragment of his soul from the future came back, but the memories (just vague ones, nothing defined) were not consciously known. Being mentally rejected by love jogged LV's memories, and allowed him to recall a bit of the future. Basically, Harry and Minerva are in_ trouble_.

**_For those tired of baby! can't-do-anything! Harry:_**I have had a few reviewers say that they are kinda getting tired of baby Harry. To them, let me say this: three, possibly four, more chapters of this, then we'll have a Harry who is able to do more. Yes. That means there will be a slight age-jump in chapter eight or nine (no, I'm not following the original timeline in chapter count. I'm gonna merge and mix alot into one chapter, possibly two). Harry won't be in school yet, but he'll be older.

Finally, special thanks to _Teal Thanatos_, who helped beta this chapter and prodded me into fleshing out this battle so quickly, and what-not.

My **Live Journal** has a rough outline for all the future chapter titles of Young Again: The Rewrite.Check it out. Happy **_reviewing!_**

Comments always welcome.

_-- liath_

! Updated: 5.02.06 -oOo- Revised: 8.23.06 !_

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	6. CH04: Drawing Out the Plans

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**_Chapter Four:_**** Drawing Out the Plans**

_by Taliath_

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_Cats will always land on their feet_, thought Minerva, amused, as she watched Madam Pomfrey scurry around her. _And we have nine lives, as well_. "Poppy, I'm fine. You healed my arm, right? You need not worry yourself so."

"Oh, Minerva," said the nurse. "You're not quite as young as you once were, you know." Minerva's eyes twitched, and the nurse smiled apologetically, but briskly. "Now, are you sure you'll be fine?"

Such a loaded question, Minerva thought to herself. _No, I will not be. This was not supposed to happen. Events are outpacing Harry and I, and I fear that if we cannot catch up, we will all of us be buried under_. Outwardly, she only smiled. "Of course, Poppy. Of course."

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I suppose I should go check on Lily. She still hasn't waken yet, you know. I fear her concussion was quite serious, indeed. I do not understand why the Headmaster refuses to allow her to get proper attention from St. Mungo's."

"You-Know-Who did that to her," replied Minerva, while her thoughts raced, "it is entirely possible he may return to finish the job. You know this, Poppy."

"Yes," said the nurse with a sigh. "I suppose I do. But still, Minerva, Lily isn't faring well at all. In fact, I believe her head trauma is serious enough to warrant amnesia!"

_Harry, so many things have gone wrong. Frank Longbottom has lost his mind, his wife is nearly broken with grief. Lily lies comatose, and she may have amnesia if ever she wakes._ "Has there been any word of Remus, yet?"

Poppy shook her head in frustration. "No, there's been no word. None at all. I fear the worst, Minerva, he was in such terrible shape when you brought him in!"

_I have never had much skill in Healing, yet I should have tried to stop Remus' bleeding. Perhaps he would be faring better now, if I had not foolishly gone charging ahead for Lord Voldemort_. Minerva sighed mentally. Then again, had she wasted another moment, she would not have been in time to catch that Killing Curse. So many choices, so many possibilities—none of them pleasant. "Is James still with Lily?"

Madam Pomfrey _tsk_ed irritably in answer. "Yes, the foolish boy. And he's got his son with him—poor thing, probably hasn't even been fed lunch yet." _Harry, oh Harry. How are you faring?_ The nurse turned towards Minerva's hearth, suddenly. "I'd really better get back, Minerva, if you're all right? If I'm gone any longer, I think Black will run off."

_I must speak to Harry_. "Actually, Poppy," said Minerva, rising from her bed. "I'll go with you, I think. I have some words to exchange with Sirius, and the sooner the better." _Stupid boy, Sirius. He is far too arrogant. It would have gotten him killed today, had I not landed right when I did. _Minerva nearly snorted derisively. What kind of fool started taunting your opponent in the middle of a duel? Fools. Only stupid fools.

"Come, Poppy. Let us go quickly," said Minerva, handing the nurse some Floo powder.

_Hopefully I'll be able to get Harry away from James. Yes, a discussion with him about our future plans has been long overdue.

* * *

_

Harry worried. His mother wasn't waking up. His father looked lost. Sirius was injured. Remus rushed away to St. Mungo's by others.

And Lord Voldemort remembered.

_I just can't believe it. I just can't. _He seriously just could not handle this. _It was going to work out. I was going to take him down early, destroy his Horcruxes without him knowing. _He didn't know what to do anymore. It was supposed to be quick and easy. He was supposed to save lives, to change the future for the better. _At least Minerva is all right._

But Harry just couldn't focus on anything else. _How did he do it? How?_

"Sirius Black, I'm surprised you're still here," said Madam Pomfrey as the fire in the infirmary hearth roared.

Again the flame rose up, and out from it stepped Minerva. _I have to tell her. She doesn't know._

"Mr. Black, I see you are all right," said Minerva in greeting, and for some odd reason Sirius didn't look very happy to see her. In fact, he looked rather abashed and embarrassed. _I wonder what that's about?_ "Perhaps you will remember, now that you've been injured, that taunting your enemy in the midst of a duel is the most reckless and foolish thing you can do?" _Sirius taunted someone during a duel, again? He was killed the last time he did that!_ Harry thought to himself angrily.

"Of course, Professor," said Sirius reluctantly.

"Good," said Minerva sternly. "Arrogance will get you no where, Mr. Black, and it may, in fact, get you killed some day." Her eyes met Harry's for an instant, and he knew she was being harsh on purpose. _We must get the point across now_, she said with her eyes, and Harry understood. _Yeah, it _will_ get him killed if he doesn't fix that_.

Harry watched from the bed as Madam Pomfrey approached, and she smiled gently at him, but suddenly turned to glare at his father. "Mr. Potter, have you fed the child, yet? He is looking rather pale, I must say. I know your wife is in a very serious condition, but you mustn't let that affect your care for your son!"

"Madam Pomfrey, is she going to be all right?" asked James, a hint of desperation in his voice. "You didn't tell me when I asked before—please, tell me now. What's going on? Will she be all right?"

_Please, don't let it be anything bad_. Harry didn't think he could bear losing his parents again, losing a mother again. The nurse seemed to hesitate for a second, before responding, "She hit her head very hard, Mr. Potter, and it is hard to say what will happen. It is entirely possible that she may have amnesia due to her concussion, or perhaps even damaged a little mentally."

James slumped in his chair, the look of shock and defeat clearly written on his face. Suddenly anger and hatred rippled across, and Harry watched in surprise as his father's rage invoked Accidental Magic—the windows above shattered with a strangely musical tune, though one of frenzy and chaos. "_Pettigrew_," he snapped in anger. "He did_ this!_"

"Mr. Potter!" cried Madam Pomfrey, her eyes wide with shock.

_Pettigrew?_ Wormtail?_ He did what? What does _he_ have to do with anything?_

"James, _James_," said Minerva, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at her. "Look at me. _Look_ at me. Calm down. Deep breaths. Calm down, Mr. Potter. You are damaging the infirmary, and may hurt your Lily and Harry. Now _calm down_."

James seemed to lose his anger all at once, and his head dropped in defeat. "I'm sorry, Professor. I-I'm sorry." He took a look around the infirmary, eyes widening at the damage, and dropped his head again. "I-I'll fix it up later."

Minerva looked sternly at him, then nodded. "You must watch your temper, Mr. Potter. Now is _not_ the time to lose control. However," she waved her wand and all the broken pieces flew together, the windows repairing quickly, "there is no need for sharp pieces of glass to be left lying around to injure others." She paused, and asked the very question Harry wanted answered. "You mentioned Pettigrew—I assume you meant _Peter_ Pettigrew? What of him?" She asked the last urgently, focusing on James.

"He was there. At Godric's Hollow," said James, his face down in his hands. "I was dueling him down in the basement."

"Indeed, Mr. Potter," said Minerva, and Harry saw her slightly wide eyes staring down at his father. _Wormtail! He was there? I thought Minerva said Snape had him placed in a dungeon room somewhere?_ "This explains so much…. Severus," Harry heard her mutter to herself, and felt only confusion.

Sirius leaned over his bed at them, talking over Minerva's muttering. "Wait, Prongs, are you saying that it was _Peter_ who told Voldemort we'd be there?" Madam Pomfrey jumped when Sirius named the Dark Lord, as though shocked, but everyone ignored her.

"Yeah," said James with a sigh. "Apparently he did. At least, he was there."

"You were dueling with him, Mr. Potter? Tell me exactly what happened." Minerva conjured a comfortable seat in front of James, and Harry looked on with interest. _It seems the rat somehow escaped. He told Voldemort. He's responsible for doing this. He's _responsible.

"I… I was just locking up my family vault and going up to the basement when he shot a spell at me—I avoided it, and we spoke a bit." James shook his head. "He wasn't acting right—as though he were—" He suddenly looked up, his eyes wide with realization. "He was _polyjuiced_!"

"Polyjuiced?" asked Madam Pomfrey, and Harry jumped. He had forgotten she was still there.

"He must have been," said James quickly, "he _must_ have been! He was way too fast when we dueled. And he managed to steal the Potter ring from me—"

"_What?_"

James held up his right hand, and revealed his ring-finger, which looked very blistered and bruised, an angry red that made Madam Pomfrey turn into an enraged nurse within an instant ("_And you never told me! Of all the stupid, idiotic—_").

Harry could only agree with her. _My dad _can_ be an idiot sometimes. I never noticed that the ring was missing. So Voldemort now has the Potter signet ring. This nightmare is just going to get worse, isn't it?_

"So," said Minerva, softly, but in Harry's direction. "So, we have a Death Eater polyjuiced to look like Wormtail, the Potter signet ring missing, and _Severus missing as well_."

_Snape is missing? Why is everything getting out of control?_

"James, have you given Harry his lunch, yet?" asked Minerva suddenly, cutting into the nurse's tirade as Madam Pomfrey healed his finger, while checking the rest of him for other injuries. Minerva's speculative mood vanished like smoke, returning once more to the stern, brisk mode that Harry knew she most preferred, as she stood. "Well, Mr. Potter?"

"No, no, I haven't yet," said James miserably. "I'll do it right now."

"You most certainly will _not_," snapped Madam Pomfrey. "You will stay _right where you are_ until I've healed _every_ injury you've been a fool not to tell me about."

"Wonderful," said Minerva. "I shall take him, if you don't mind, Mr. Potter. I know you have a lot on your hands, and I find that I am quite free this afternoon." Harry felt her gently lift him up without waiting for a response. "Poppy, I'll be back with him soon. Mr. Potter, you know where my office is." She nodded to them, then turned with Harry in her arms, and left.

_It seems Minerva wants to talk to me. Good. That'll make things easier._

For some odd reason, however, as Harry was snuggled within Minerva's arms, he felt a drowsiness come over him, and a spectacular yawn threaten to rip his mouth apart.

* * *

Minerva glared sternly as various students suddenly stopped when they saw her holding Harry, with wide eyes staring at the pair of them, and inwardly rolled her eyes. _Probably surprised I'm holding a baby in my arms. Children these days can be so innocent, and naïve, at times. _She conveniently forgot that she, too, had once been such a student, and had at times done the exact same thing when she was their age. 

It took only a short walk to get to her office, and a quick jab of her wand to conjure a crib. Gently placing Harry inside of it, she activated her silencing wards. "Harry, we are safe to talk now."

"Minervwa," said Harry, and Minerva's lips twitched into a smile when he visibly winced at his mangled pronunciation, and with amusement listened as he continued—grimly. "We're in twouble. Voldemorth rwemembers the future."

The smile disappeared from her face. Minerva's thoughts were brought to a standstill. Her mind became blank.

_Voldemort remembers. The _future

Minerva let out a shuddered gasp, two seconds later. _I need to sit down._ _It would have been nice if Harry asked me to sit down first. That boy, frequently forgets his manners, sometimes. Perhaps this time around James and Lily will be able to—_

_Stop! _Minerva forced herself to stop rambling, to focus on the matter at hand. Her old plush chair would do, thought Minerva, as she quickly moved over to sit. As she leaned back into the wonderful cushioning, she realized that it had been nearly two years since she had sat in this chair. _It's nice to be back. All of my old things right where they used to be, and the chair doesn't have that rip in it as it did in the future. I wonder if the old charms are still—_

Again Minerva had to stop herself; she was rambling.

_He _remembers_ the future._

She felt Harry's eyes burning intensely at her, and she looked up to meet them. _Oh dear. Oh, curse Slytherin, this is bad. Oh, light._ "How?" she croaked at last, asking the very first question that popped into her mind.

The baby shook his head as he answered, "I don' know. He musth have been caughth up in our sthpell."

She shook her head, realizing that Harry didn't get what she was asking. _Besides, that's impossible. I specified that spell to just the two of us. _"No, I meant, how do you know he remembers?"

"He twied to cursth me," said Harry, his mouth struggling to form the words. Then suddenly he let out an angry sigh, "Minervwa, can you justh casth the Mooth-Sthpeah?"

Minerva narrowed her eyes. _Mooth-Sptheah? _Then her eyes lit with understanding. _Ah, the Mute-Speak. Of course. I should have thought of this first_. She quickly pointed her wand at Harry. "_Sententia Clamor_."

_Yes_, thought Minerva sadly, _he would remember this well. _It had been the only way Ronald was be able to communicate after his tongue had been removed forcibly by Death Eaters. _Yes, Hermione's ingenuity has certainly outdone itself with the creation this spell. _

She nearly smiled as the baby before her scrunched up his face in a rather cute way, and suddenly heard Harry speak into her mind a moment later—his thought-voice was a much more matured, deeper voice than that of his baby-body's. It was the voice of an eighteen year old male, who had already undergone puberty. And for some odd reason, Minerva felt a strange relief flow over her at hearing the calm voice of Harry Potter once more. "_That's much better, Minerva. Thank you! You've no idea how much it annoyed me to try to talk with a baby's mouth—and the effort it takes! A nightmare, I tell you_."

"I'm glad, Harry," said Minerva out loud. _This will be strange,_ she thought to herself._ How weird must we look from an outsider's point of view? An adult talking to a seemingly silent baby._ "Now, tell me, what happened once the Dark Lord got rid of me?" She frowned, quite annoyed by the fact that she had been blown away by Voldemort, dismissed, as though she were nothing but an obstacle, and a measly one at that. "How do you know he remembers?"

And so Harry told her, in a much more eloquent manner through his thought-speak, and Minerva felt more and more panicked as she listened. When she heard him tell of his outburst in front of his mother, she had frowned—but then had to agree with Harry when he had vehemently defended himself that, yes, she would have most likely done the same thing had she been in his position.

He went on, and Minerva could do nothing but sit perfectly still. _The lightning scar? The Boy Who Lived? He said those things?_ This was bad. Worse than bad. This was catastrophic. _And he knows Harry is back from the future_.

"Did your scar hurt?"

"_No, actually, it didn't!_"

Finally, when Harry was finished speaking, there was a small pause, and Minerva knew he was waiting for her to comprehend everything he had just told her. Indeed, it was as though an explosion spell had just wreaked havoc among her thoughts, and she felt grateful that Harry allowed her a few moments just to get her thoughts under control.

"_I don't think he knows about you, though, Minerva. He definitely knows I'm back, but you're still an element of surprise._"

"Indeed," Minerva breathed. She could already feel a headache building. "But how much _does_ he remember, Harry? That is our most crucial question. If he remembered everything, he would have known it was me, from the future, that he faced. If he remembered everything, I very much doubt he would have attacked this morning."

"_I don't know either. Definitely not everything. Yeah, if he did, I think he would have killed me, too. There's no way he would have left me to live. And he seemed very confused._"

"Yes, his confusion is most surprising," said Minerva, nodding in agreement. "And why did he suddenly remember at that point, why not some other time? What triggered his future memories to come to the surface?"

"_Do you think, that, er, maybe it was when I rejected him from my mind that jogged his memories?_"

She frowned in deep thought. "That is something to look into. Yes, it is very coincidental for him to have suddenly recalled immediately after he struck your mind with Legilimency—too coincidental for us to dismiss."

There was another moment of silence, as both of them were lost in their thoughts. Minerva jumped slightly when Harry spoke again, breaking the stillness. "_What was that about Snape? You mentioned him earlier down in the_—"

"Of course, Severus!" said Minerva, jumping up from her seat to the hearth. "I must quickly check on him, Harry. He was missing this morning, and if what James says is true, then I fear he may have been captured by Wormtail, and with Lord Voldemort at this present moment."

"_Wait, Minerva, what're you doing? And _what_ about Wormtail? That Wormtail was at the battle? But dad said he was polyjuiced? You'll have to explain this more; I'm getting awfully confused here._"

"One moment, Harry," said Minerva, "this needs to be done quickly. Do you remember where the Marauders' Map is located at this present moment? Is it with your parents?"

Harry shook his head, confusion very apparent. "_No, I think Fred and George mentioned it being with Filch, I think he confiscated it from my dad and the Marauders before they graduated._"

Minerva quickly lit a flame in her hearth, and threw in some Floo powder. "Argus Filch," she said, and waited impatiently for a response. _Oh, Severus, please tell me you are all right_.

"Who is it?" barked a voice from the flames.

"Argus, this is Professor McGonagall," spoke Minerva into the fire. "I was wondering if you could find for me a piece of old parchment that you confiscated from James Potter, Sirius Black, and their friends."

"Professor McGonagall, of course! Once moment," came the rough voice of the Hogwarts caretaker. She heard the sounds of Filch searching through the desks and boxes, before he yelled, "Found it! I'll bring it up to your office right away, Professor."

"No, Argus, allow me," said Minerva. "I'll reach through the Floo." Kneeling down before the green flames, Minerva reached forward blindly, and felt a piece of parchment shoved into her hands. "Thank you, Argus. Good day."

"You too, Professor," said Filch. She closed the Floo connection.

"Now, Harry, what were the words, again?" She turned around when Harry didn't respond, and sighed when she saw his sleeping form. _Yes, he is still a child, both mentally and physically. If he were normal, he would but be a year out of Hogwarts. Fate has been most terrible on him_.

It took Minerva two tries before she got it right, and as she scanned the map, eyes darting from name to name in search of the Potions Master, she muttered to herself about the ingenuity of her favorite pupils wasted on foolish pranks.

_Now, where might Severus be? The Potions Lab? The dungeons? The Forest? Where?_

But she couldn't find Severus. Not even when she scanned it her second time. Severus Snape was gone from Hogwarts.

_And so is Wormtail_.

Minerva carefully folded the Marauders' Map, and breathed in deeply, letting it out audibly through her teeth. _But why would anyone want to take Polyjuice potion to look like Wormtail? What purpose would that serve? How did the rat manage to capture Severus? What the hell is going on?_ It was a rare occasion for her to curse, even mentally, but Minerva found this situation warranted a healthy dose of cursing.

There were so many loose ends, so many unknowns. She had originally thought that the disturbances between her past and the current time had been the result of a small pebble being thrown into a large pond, causing large but minimal ripples—but now she found she was completely wrong. A boulder had been thrown in, and a storm of waves was causing havoc as a result.

_Yet we mustn't lose hope_, thought Minerva as she came a sudden decision. _A boulder may have been thrown into the river of time, changing its course—but there is still hope_.

Sitting before her table, she carefully summoned to her a stack of new parchments, her old quill, a jar of ink, and began to write—began to do what she had originally planned for the day, which had been interrupted first by Albus, and later by the attack on Godric's Hollow.

_Perhaps the future Harry and I came from no longer exists. But we can still learn from it, and change what we can_.

She wrote carefully the very first date, the day that had changed so dramatically from her past, and started the long process of recording _a_ past, and _a_ future.

_October 31, 1981 – James and Lily Potter's Death, Lord Voldemort's Disappearance

* * *

_

Lily Potter dreamed.

She was floating in a wide blue ocean one moment, the next she was flying through the sky, which was another kind of blue ocean—though this time one of air.

Then she was falling, and falling, and falling.

_Stand aside, girl_.

Did she want to? No, she didn't think so.

_Stand aside!_

No. No, she really didn't want to.

Then she was drowning, she couldn't breath—clean air! She could breathe! Air! Oxygen! Good!

_Sthop dat!_

Oh, but she didn't really want to stop breathing, did she?

Ouch. Something hit her, a spike of pain. No. None of that now, she should be free.

She was floating one moment. The next she was flying. She was falling.

And falling.

And falling.

Who was laughing? How dare someone laugh at her? Stop that! Stop right this moment!

Stop that!

_Sthop dat!_

Oh. Lily didn't want to. Didn't want to what? How would she know?

Floating. Flying. Falling.

_Lily, dear, please wake up. Please wake up._

Wake up? She was awake! Oh yes, she was. She had to be awake to float, to fly, to fall.

Oh, there goes that laughing again. _Stand aside, girl_.

Just, just, shut up! Why must this person bother her so?

_Sthop dat! I hate you, Rwiddle!_

No. She was Lily. How dare Harry call her Riddle? How dare her son say he hated her?

Oh, no. None of that now. Who was this Harry, anyway? Her son? Please!

She was floating. She was flying—

—Wait.

Harry? Her son? Speaking so coherently? Articulating so well?

No. Forget that. A fifteen month old baby couldn't talk so well. Let's forget that now. Yes. Better to forget.

Wouldn't want to think a baby could talk, right?

People would say she was going crazy, then.

And she wasn't crazy—no, she wasn't!

Forget. Forget. Forget. Good. What was she forgetting about?

She didn't remember.

Good.

That laughing again! Stop! How dare someone laugh at her?

_Lily, you have to wake up. Please, you have to. Don't leave us, don't leave Harry and me. I don't know if I can handle it. Lily, please, wake up. Wake up._

Hmp. She liked it here. How dare someone ask her to wake up? To leave here?

Wait. No. She was already awake, right? Remember, she was wide awake?

Float. Fly. Fall.

_Lily, please! Wake up!_

She almost frowned—almost. Go away! Stop disturbing her! She wanted to float, to fly, to fall—

—she wanted to fall?

When did that happen? No. She didn't want to fall. She didn't want to—

STOP LAUGHING!

_Lily? Are you waking up? You moved! Madam, she's moving!_

Of course she was moving. She had to move to be able to float and to fly.

_Lily, please! Wake up! Wake up! I love you, Lily, please come back!_

Love? Wake? Up?

Lily was so confused. She was already awake. She was floating, and flying. She was already awake. And she didn't want to leave. She was happy. She was—

—he loves me. James loves me.

Of course he does. She was married to him, he was married to her. They loved each other.

And people who loved each other did things for each other.

Wake up? Did she want to?

_Lily, wake up!_

Well.

She guessed she could. Yes. For James.

And for Harry.

Goodbye, floating. Goodbye, flying.

That laughing again!

Yes, she wanted definitely wanted to wake up now. But she was already—

_Wake up._

Wake up.

Wake.

Up.

Lily opened her eyes.

* * *

Severus Snape wished he was dead. Oh, wait. He _was_ dead, already. His life was over with. 

He knew that. He had been dead the moment he had decided to switch sides, to join the Order.

He was dead. _But_, he was still _alive_.

And oh, how he wished he wasn't.

It took exactly thirteen hours. Thirteen horrible hours.

Thirteen hours of hell.

Before he broke. Before his Occlumency shields collapsed. Before Lord Voldemort had ravaged his mind. Before he betrayed everyone.

It was inevitable. No one survived long once the Dark Lord decided someone needed to broken. Severus had seen it done many times before, had participated in it himself.

Yes. It took four hours to break Regulus Black, last year, and Lord Voldemort hadn't even taken so great an interest in it. He had been enraged about something, but didn't take too much interest in the torturing. Only after Black had been broken had Lord Voldemort approach. In any case, it had taken six Death Eaters, Severus included, four hours to break Regulus Alphard Black, traitor.

And that was considered rather long. Lord Voldemort hadn't been best pleased.

But it took thirteen to break Severus.

Exactly thirteen.

He wasn't proud of it. He should have just broken earlier. It would have saved him from great pain.

No, Severus realized a split second later, it wouldn't have. Lord Voldemort would have slowly tortured him anyway.

At least this way, he had held out for thirteen hours. He had been spitting into the Dark Lord's eye for thirteen hours.

Yes. He should have thought of it that way. He, Severus Snape, had been angering Lord Voldemort for thirteen hours—of course, the Dark Lord hadn't been present for all thirteen, but he was there for most of it—and there had been nothing Lord Voldemort could do about it.

_Ha, ha, ha!_ Severus laughed. It was hoarse and touched with insanity—but he didn't care. _I am insane. I rather enjoy it_.

"I am glad you are enjoying this, Severus," said a silky, oily voice. "I hope you are enjoying this as much as I am. After all, mutual enjoyment is best for all, eh?"

Severus hadn't even been able to kill himself—by biting his tongue, or otherwise. The Dark Lord had quickly prevented that. _When I meet the soul of the person who created the Caedo Ego in hell, I will mutilate him_.

"Severus, _Severus_," continued that voice. "You have been _such_ a disappointment. I had high hopes for you, you know."

A hand caressed Severus' bloody cheek, rubbing against the fire-hot lines of torn skin, and the Potions Master hissed in pain.

"But," said the voice. "But, you have been most helpful in the end. For that, I am pleased. In fact, I have it in mind to reward you for your aid."

Severus hung, his arms spread wide and bound to the high to the wall, and found he didn't have the strength to open his eyes. The Caedo Ego had prevented him from sleeping, as well. From falling unconscious. And he was tired. So tired.

"You will die, of course," soothed the voice. Oh, how Severus hated that voice. "But you will die swiftly. That is my gift to you, your reward."

Yes. Death. Come take him. He craved for it. Whether he went to hell, or to paradise, he didn't care. It couldn't be any worse than this.

"Halloween tonight. At Diagon Alley. You shall be hanged swiftly for your crimes, Severus Snape."

Severus groaned as the hand parted and re-split his scabbed skin.

"Well… it _may_ be swift."

The last thing Severus heard, before the Caedo Ego was lifted, before he dropped quite suddenly into unconsciousness, was the cold, high-pitched laughter of Lord Voldemort.

* * *

Harry Potter woke with a start. 

And he realized that he was _hungry_. It gnawed at him from within, a deep painful throb that made him want to cry. He felt tears come to his eyes, he heard himself start to whimper.

Then he was finally awake.

_Why the hell was I about to cry? Are the stupid baby-instincts taking over?_

"Harry," said a voice from the side, and he looked up to see Minerva, who was holding a platter full of food. _Yes! I'm hungry! Give me food!_ She smiled amusedly, but Harry didn't particularly care at that moment. He hardly realized that he was projecting his thoughts through the Mute-Speak, either. All he could think about was the food.

Minerva sat next to him on the stool, then carefully placed the platter in the crib. When Harry reached for it, however, she quickly waved him away. "Harry, you're hardly able to feed yourself cleanly, yet."

"_I can try_," he answered stubbornly. _Yeah. I have to try sometime. I'll only get better as I try._

"You can try with your mother, then," she said sternly, her wand quickly getting rid of the crib walls, leaving only a flat mattress that Harry sat on. "I will not have you spill all over your crib. Now, open your mouth."

And so Harry, humiliated beyond belief, as spoon-fed by his one-time Transfigurations Professor and friend. _Oh, bloody hell! Can I maybe use Metamorphmagus transformations to gain better motor control?_ It was a thought. He would try later, he decided. Granted, his abilities weren't as great as Tonks', but he could still do a few tricks.

"_How long was I asleep?_" Harry asked mentally as he ate.

"A couple of hours," said Minerva. Her eyes were _still_ lit with amusement, Harry saw grumpily. "Past four, nearly five hours. It is nearing eight in the evening."

"_Did my dad come to check in on me?"_

"Yes, in fact," said Minerva as she fed him another spoon. "He came twice, actually. The first time it was about an hour into your nap—but finding out you were asleep, he was willing to let you be. The second time was just a half-hour ago. He decided it best to let you sleep again, and I think he wanted to keep you away from your mother. She hasn't yet woken, you see, and he doesn't want to worry you."

Harry nodded. "_Sorry I fell asleep_," he said a moment later. "_What did you find out about Snape?_"

The light disappeared from Minerva's eyes. "He's missing. I cannot find him from the map. Wormtail is missing as well."

Harry felt his appetite disappear. "_Wait, so it _was _Wormtail that dad dueled? Or _did _someone take Polyjuice? What for, then?_"

She shook her head slowly, and Harry knew she was just as clueless as he was. "I do not understand either. It is all rather confusing. How did Wormtail manage to escape? Why has Severus disappeared? These are all questions we have no answer to."

Harry hesitated a moment, before speaking, "_D-do you think, maybe, that he betrayed—_"

"No," said Minerva at once, not unkindly, "you know as well as I do that Severus is, though not loyal to our cause, firmly against Lord Voldemort. He would never betray us. And the Unbreakable Vow is still there, Harry, you know this."

"_Yeah_," projected Harry with a sigh. "_You're right. I should give him more credit. It's just, hard, you know? There's a lot of history between us—but you know this already._"

Minerva nodded in perfect understanding as she held up another spoon. "Yes, Harry, I dare say I am well aware." Harry heard her sigh. "I only hope he is safe. But I doubt it. You know, as well as I do, that no can survive the Dark Lord for long."

"_Well, he can't reveal anything Voldemort doesn't already know_," said Harry with a mental sigh. "_Voldemort remembers the future now, so he'll know all about the Prophecy and whatnot. There's nothing new that he can tell the Dark Lord._"

"Perhaps," said Minerva. "But we still do not know how much of the future he remembers."

"_Even the smallest bit is too much_," said Harry miserably.

Minerva banished the empty plate and platter when Harry finished. "While you were sleeping, I recorded our past, writing it all down. This way, we will be able to reference specific events and work to prevent it. Take a look, Harry, and tell me if you find anything missing."

Harry looked carefully, reading over it attentively when Minerva summoned it to them, but found only the smallest bits incorrect. "_I think you have everything down_," he said once Minerva made the corrections. "_I can't remember anything more right now, either._"

"Good, good," said Minerva as she quickly spelled it. "Charms is not my best subject, Harry, but I will protect this chart as best I can."

"_Yeah, I'd hate to think what might happen to it if it got into the wrong hands._"

Harry felt troubled, actually, as he looked over the list and the first date caught his eye. True, his parents had died that Halloween, but still, the Wizarding world had been given thirteen years of relative peace because of it, right? Could Harry have been so selfish to trade the lives of his parents for countless others? Because now, Lord Voldemort was free to create more chaos and trouble, not gone and silent like he was in Harry's past.

Harry looked up at his mentor, and forced himself to speak his feelings. "_Minerva, maybe we shouldn't have changed the past_," he said, every word paining his heart, but he knew he had to speak it. "_I mean, now Voldemort is still going to kill others, and the war will still go on. Maybe… maybe… my parents… should have…. died. Maybe it would have been better—_"

"No," said Minerva firmly, her eyes staring intently into Harry's own eyes. She said this with conviction, trying to convince Harry. "No, Harry. Never think that. _Never_. We will change it all, Harry. Things just seem bad right now, but you mustn't lose hope. Harry, dear Harry, you don't deserve this, and your parents don't deserve to die. Never think that, Harry. Perhaps things are worse now, than before, but we cannot live with regret. We must move on. And we must continue to fight. You never know how things will work out."

"_But, Minerva, we can arrange things so that it falls out like the past again—_"

"I hope, _Harry_, that you are not suggesting setting up a trap that will _kill _your parents, because—"

"_But it will also get rid of Voldemort, which is—_"

"Not worth the lives of your parents, Harry! The Dark Lord is worth nothing—"

"_But he's still alive! He'll kill countless people because—_"

"You do _not_ know that! You do _not_ know whether—"

"_Of course I do! You know as well as I do that this is what Voldemort does. He kills for—_"

"Very well! Let us say we _kill_ your parents, and _temporarily _get rid of Voldemort, what _then_?"

"_We'll have a chance to stop him, then. We can gather the Horcrux and destroy_—"

"But you are forgetting one crucial thing: Voldemort remembers! He won't try to kill you—"

"_But you said he might not remember everything, he still might—_"

"Harry! Do you _want_ your parents to die—?"

"_OF COURSE NOT! But if it's the only way to get rid of Voldemort, even temporarily, then it's a sacrifice_—"

"Sacrifice? _Sacrifice!_ Since when do you talk about sacrifices--?"

"_Ever since you fucking left me with the Dursleys! Ever since you let Albus sacrifice my childhood!_"

There was a moment of silence, and Harry immediately felt regret as he looked up at Minerva's pale face. He sighed heavily. "_I'm sorry, Minerva. I'm passed that, truly I am. And I don't blame you for putting me with the Dursleys. There's no way you could've known_."

It was another long pause, before Minerva spoke, "Harry, I understand. And I'm sorry—no, let me say it—I'm sorry for your childhood. It was a sacrifice Albus had no right to demand of you. _But_ _Harry_, it is the same for your parents. What you are suggesting is a sacrifice that you have _no_ _right_ to demand from _them_!"

Harry's mouth fell open, as her last statement struck him, and struck him hard. _Light, she's right. I have no right to demand that from them. How could I have talked about arranging their deaths? About killing them?_ He felt bile rise from inside, and just barely kept from retching his late lunch—late dinner. _Oh, mum, dad, I'm so sorry!_

Harry finally spoke, and it was with a tone of self-disgust,"_You're right, Minerva. I can't believe I was just doing that! I'm sorry._"

He heard her sigh in relief, and nodded as she spoke, "Not to worry, Harry. I'm glad it came up. And I'm glad I've managed to convince you."

"_Yeah_," said Harry apologetically. "_I was being an idiot. Thanks for knocking some sense back into me._"

"You are most welcome," she said, with a small gentle smile, and Harry smiled weakly in return.

There was another span of silence, while each was lost in their own thoughts.

Finally Harry looked up, and saw Minerva hesitate, as though she wanted to ask something, but was unsure of Harry's reaction. He watched her, waiting for her to speak. Finally, she did, slowly, "Now, Harry, you never told me directly, but I'm afraid I must ask now. How many of his Horcruxes did you find?"

_Oh, of course_. He had never told her before, for back then it had been too dangerous for even the most trusted to be given a secret, especially as important as this—but Harry knew it was safe now. _I can tell her, I think_. But she wouldn't like the answer. "_I found three more of the originals, Minerva, apart from the ring and the diary: the Slytherin Locket, Hufflepuff's Cup, and Nagini. But Voldemort also made two more, once he found out after I got to the Cup. I destroyed one of those. So I still don't know where the other last original Horcrux is._"

Minerva nodded slowly. "I see. And can you find them again?"

Harry frowned. "_I'm not sure. I don't know where they are right now. Not even diary. Does Malfoy still have it? And the locket, the cup, and Nagini I had to track down personally. But I do know how to track it, so it'll only take a matter of time_."

"And Lord Voldemort may move them, since he may now remember that you had hunted and destroyed them in the future."

_Oh. I didn't realize that. Damn!_ Harry groaned. "_Oh, Minerva, we're in big trouble._"

"Harry, now is not the time to let yourself down," said Minerva gently. "We can do this, Harry. We can."

"_I guess, but I still don't—_"

The flames in Minerva's hearth roared as a Floo connection was made, and Harry heard Madam Pomfrey's voice flow out. "Minerva, Lily's just waken up. She wants Harry. Are you there?"

"Poppy, that is excellent news!" said Minerva, quickly reaching out for Harry. Their eyes met for an instant, and Harry knew she was saying a silent farewell. _We'll need to talk later, but for now, we need to go on_, she was saying. Harry nodded. "I'll give you Harry so you can bring him there immediately. How is she faring?" Harry felt her discreetly cancel the Mute-Speak. _Well, it was a good conversation while it lasted._

"Thank you," said the nurse. "Lily's faring quite well, actually. I found no sign of mental retardation, and she's only forgotten a portion of her memories—perhaps the last ten minutes before she received her head trauma. She remembers only up till when you dueled with You-Know-Who." At that last part, Madam Pomfrey's tone changed to one of wonder, as though amazed that Minerva had dueled with Voldemort and survived.

Harry only felt relief, however. His mother was safe, alive, with only a slight memory loss. _Oh. It looks like mum won't remember my outburst. Minerva and I forgot to plan something if she did. But she won't remember. That's good. I think._

Yes. It was good, Harry decided a moment later. It would have caused quite a lot of trouble if she had remembered. _I'm glad she's forgotten, then. I don't like that she had to get a concussion, but the consequences don't seem too bad_. Was he a bad son, to think like this?

_No_, he told himself. _No, you're not a bad son. You're just thinking ahead, thinking about the war to come_. But then again, he had just thought about arranging their deaths, too. _I'm glad Minerva knocked some sense into me. Yes. Definitely glad_.

Lily smiled up at Harry as Madam Pomfrey brought him along—Minerva had decided to stay in her office—and he squealed in delight. "Mama!" he cried, hoping that it didn't sound too off. He knew babies could speak at the age of over one, though not very coherently. "Mama!"

"Harry," she said, reaching out for him, then hugging him tightly when he was passed into her arms. "My dearest Harry." He heard her sob a little, and had to stop himself from crying as well. _My mother is alive. She's lived past Halloween—how could I have thought about killing her just an hour before?_

"Lily, it's all right. Everything will be okay," Harry heard his father say, as James drew the three of them into a hug. _Yeah, everything will be okay. Minerva and I will make sure of it. Nothing will happen to you, mum and dad, I promise. _"We made it through this. We're all alive and safe. That's all that matters. That's all that—"

The infirmary doors crashed open as hostile magic struck, and Peter Pettigrew stepped inside. "How very _touching_!" said Pettigrew cold-heartedly. "The Potter family in a group hug. My, what a _heart-warming_ scene!" He held reached into his pocket, and pulled out a roped net. "My Lord Voldemort desires to meet you. It is not good to keep him waiting."

He threw it at them.

Before anyone could react, the net flapped open and enveloped them—

—portkeying the family away instantly.

"Ah, and so our last guests, the Potters, have finally arrived," said Lord Voldemort coldly. "And now, we can finally begin the Celebration of Darkest Night."

The Dark Lord suddenly laughed then, a shrill, high-sounding note that brought fear and terror to all.

"Welcome, _honored_ guests, to _Halloween_."

* * *

_**To be continued….**_

**_Chapter Five: _The Boy Who Lived** _will be updated soon, but reviews help shorten the time. So take the hint and _review!_ A simple, "Wonderful!" or a "Love it!" will do! Even simple messages like that inspire authors to write more!

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**Ending Notes:**

Yes! This chapter is finally done! It took a little more time than the other chapters, mostly because I had three AP exams and three SAT II's to worry about. But those are _all_ things of the past! I'm free! Which means more time to write!

_Hem, hem!_ Now, for the chapter. It was boring. With a cliffie. (I'm an evil author, I know. But I'll update very soon!). Lots of things going on. I hope you liked the small argument between Minerva and Harry. It was… interesting to write.

The next chapter is another explosive one. Another one with Harry/Voldemort conflicts. And as the next chapter title implies (which I've told you above in the _To Be Continued_ section), **Voldemort will be toast**. It will be the first showdown between the Chosen One and the Dark Lord. The first part of the Prophecy will be fulfilled. And all of that… in the _next_ chapter. _Muhahaha!_

Read the "_To be continued…."_ section for the date of the next upload. Happy **_reviewing!_**

Comments always welcome.

_-- liath_

_(5.08.06)

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	7. CH05: And There Was Laughter

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_Chapter Five:_ And There Was Laughter

_by Taliath

* * *

_

Tom Riddle watched through Pettigrew's eyes disinterestedly as the Potters disappeared, and casually swung his wand, blocking a belated spell from the Hogwarts nurse. Without turning his head to look, he jerked his wand in Madam Pomfrey's direction, and heard distantly as she choked and coughed. _My Lord will be pleased. Everything has worked out just as he planned. Of course, he is my future, and I am always right_.

Hogwarts, the safest place in the world, was not quite so _safe _in its infirmary, Riddle had found in his research. No, indeed; it was, in fact, the most vulnerable. Not because it was easy to penetrate—not at all, for in this regard, the infirmary was the most protected of all—but because of the ease in which a person could exit the place. Though Apparition was prohibited throughout the castle and the grounds, including the Hospital Wing, there was an opportune lack of Portkey wards that he and his future, Lord Voldemort, had taken advantage of.

There were reasons for such a lack, of course—it was not simply a fault that no one had caught and countered. No, it was simply because seriously injured Hogwarts students who needed to be rushed to St. Mungo's could not be Flooed, nor Apparated—for the first was too dangerous, and the second too time-consuming. The safest was to utilize emergency Portkeys that had been created with a key that allowed the user to bypass the wards surrounding the Hospital Wing. And of course, it only took Riddle several hours to find the hidden key, and create his own Portkey that could bypass the wards.

Besides, entering Hogwarts had been of no problem. After all, he was Slytherin's Heir, was he not? He had explored much of the castle during his years of learning here, had he not? _Simple and easy. Nothing is impossible for me and my—_

Riddle found himself on the floor, suddenly, as Black slammed into him, and growled as he heard the man yell, "Pettigrew, you fucking _bastard!_"

_This will not do_, thought Riddle in annoyance. _How dare this mutt insult me by grappling with me like a common Muggle thug?_ He managed to point the rat's wand at Black—just barely, and straining with effort, he managed to do so, though he would never consciously acknowledge the fact—and Black shot off him with a clap of thunder, and Riddle heard the man's bones snap aloud gruesomely as he slammed into the wall. _Like music to my ears_.

Then Riddle was lifted off his feet, and his eyes widened, as a force of Black's magic spun out and struck, and he felt surprise flood through him. _Black is powerful; he must be, to be able to release some wandless, Accidental magic—however uncontrolled_. But it was of no matter to _him_, and Riddle proved it with an effortless flick that abruptly ended the force pushing against him, and heard once more as Black groaned with pain at the backlash of his magic being so suddenly severed. _Yes, groan and grovel at my feet. It is a fitting place for you._

A bolt of red spat out from Riddle's wand a moment later, before the mutt could recover, and he watched coldly as life seemed to disappear from the man. _You have greatly disappointed my future, you know, Black. My Lord Voldemort had hoped to count on the whole of the Black family's support. Imagine his surprise when the eldest heir to the family had turned against him! You should be glad, Black, that I am restraining myself from_—

"Leave," whispered a trembling voice vehemently, and Riddle jerked around in surprise. Madam Pomfrey was standing before him, one hand gently massaging her throat—but it was the other hand that drew Riddle's attention. She held before her a Healer's _Manifestation_, a miniature medicine wheel the size of her palm, and she glared at him in anger. She spoke again, her voice tight with rage, "You will leave. Else I shall bar you from the wards of Healing for all eternity, and declare the Oaths of Healers Hippocrates and Imhotep void for you, and you alone." The medicine wheel hummed with a deep vibrating tune. She continued frostily, "You have _dared_ to strike at a Healer, who has sworn the Oaths by Apollo the physician and Aesculapius. You have _dared_ to land a hand on the Undeclared in the wards of Healing. You will go, _now!_"

Riddle's face twisted in anger—_how dare she threaten me?_—and lifted his wand to obliterate this foolish Healer, opening his mouth in order to curse—

_My lord! My lord! Please, don't! _squealed a voice from within his mind. Wormtail. _My lord, she is a Mistress of Healing!_

Riddle froze. _And how, pray tell, worm, do you know this?_

_She told me, my lord! She told me! When I went to school with the werewolf, once, she told me! Please believe me, my lord! She can and will do as she—_

_Quiet!_ Riddle narrowed his eyes, meeting the nurse's—the Mistress of Healing's—enraged eyes. _A mistress of Healing? Of course, I should have known the moment I saw her hold a _Manifestation.

"Get out, Pettigrew! You're no longer welcome here! And if you don't leave now, you will be no longer welcome in any Healer's Ward. _Go!_"

_I have had enough of her. _He snarled, cutting into her tirade, "Do _shut up_, Pomfrey! You seem to be under the mistaken impression that your threats have _weight_. You are a Mistress. No matter. I care not for your arts of Healing! And quite frankly, I find you rather annoying. _Discerpo!_" He flicked his wand dismissively, confident that she would be quite unable to react fast enough to do as she threatened—and felt cold satisfaction as she screamed, clutching her head as the _Manifestation _clattered onto the marble floor, and rolled his eyes as she collapsed. _Healers_, he thought disdainfully,_ all of them are but weak fools, with their fool Oaths. My Lord Voldemort has not struck at them, yet, but there will come a time when even Healers will fear him, and me. Perhaps this will be the start, the beginning of spreading fear among—_

Riddle screamed. His face burned; the flesh of his right cheek seared with white-hot fire. He was on the floor in an instant, writhing on the floor as agony shot spikes of utter pain through him, and his hands helplessly trying to pry the source of the pain from his face.

With a massive wrench, Riddle mentally pulled away, releasing control of Wormtail's body, and returned to the refuge of his locket, where he was kept safe from the pain.

Then Wormtail screamed. _AHH! MY LORD! MY LORD! SAVE ME! MY LOOORD!_

Riddle felt only fury as he waited it out, barely hearing Wormtail's desperate pleas. _She has dared to strike against me! She has dared to lay a hand against me! I will punish her beyond hell for this. I will destroy her beyond all reckoning. How dare she? How _dare_ she?_

When Wormtail finally seemed to be released from the pain—it could have taken an hour, or one minute, he didn't know or care—Riddle reasserted his control, and ruthlessly suppressed the rat's mental whimpering. Carefully, he felt around his face, and his rage increased when he felt the source of the pain still clinging to his flesh. He pried it off, forcing himself not to wince, and looked down at the source with growing anger. It was the Healer's _Manifestation_.

With a silent roar, Riddle threw it against the wall, and glared at the one who had caused this. _She will not survive this. I will damage her beyond all repair!_ But she was still unconscious, lying sprawled where she had fainted earlier by his curse. _Her _Manifestation _reacted outside her control!_

Baring his teeth in cold fury, he conjured a mirror, and with maddened eyes saw clearly the damaged skin on his right cheek, just below his right eye. It was a puckered, seared black mark that looked identical to the medicine wheel. _She has marked me. She has _branded_ me!_

Hissing with barely contained wrath, he pointed his wand at the Healer and—

The Dark Mark burned.

_You will die some other time, then, Pomfrey_._ You will feel my anger and beg for death, soon. This is my promise to you. You are safe today—but I will return for you._

_You have marked _me_, Tom Riddle, the past of Lord Voldemort. _

_I shall not forget_.

With a last glare, Riddle activated his Portkey and was whipped away, swept off in the direction of Diagon Alley, where his Lord Voldemort waited, and planned already in his mind what he would do to this _child_ who had dared to brand the past of Lord Voldemort.

_She will scream.

* * *

_

Minerva allowed herself to smile as she traversed the empty corridors of Hogwarts to the Headmaster's office. She allowed herself to feel, for a moment, the utter joy of knowing that things would work out. After all, she and Harry had talked, they had planned, and things had already begun to change—hopefully for the better, though it was unclear as of yet.

Lily was awake, and she had forgotten about Harry's outburst. James was perfectly fine. Minerva's two favorite students were alive and well, living past Halloween. _All Hallow's Eve is not yet over_, came a sudden thought, but Minerva ignored it. It might as well be over with—after all, it was nearly half past ten in the evening. _It's not like Lord Voldemort will try anything within the next hour and a half._ It was laughable to think so.

Minerva spoke the password when she approached the gargoyle guarding Albus' office, and briskly climbed the stairs to the top landing. _It is curious, however, as to why Albus has yet to summon me. He has yet to tell me of what happened at the Longbottoms. And he has yet to call a meeting of the Order. I do wonder what this is all about_. He should have contacted her already, and it concerned her that he did not. _He may not even be in his office, yet. He may have been detained at the Ministry, or St. Mungo's. Yes, perhaps._

She was just about to knock, when her rather sensitive ears caught a deep, raspy voice speaking in thunderous volumes from just beyond. Frowning, Minerva stayed her hand, and listened.

"—_WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT… THE DARK LORD HAS LEARNED OF THE CHOSEN ONE… HE WILL STRIKE TONIGHT AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT…AND THUS SHALL THE CHOSEN ONE BE MARKED… AN EQUAL TO THE DARK LORD AND THE ONE WITH POWER HE KNOWS NOT… BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES, BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, THE PROPHECIZED CHILD WILL BE REVEALED…AND ONE MUST DIE AT THE HANDS OF THE OTHER, FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES… TONIGHT… AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT… THE DARK LORD… SHALL MARK… HIS EQUAL… THE CHOSEN ONE… SHALL… BE… REVEALED…._"

There was silence. Absolute silence. Minerva stood frozen, rooted at her spot just outside the office, as she listened, and realized quickly what she had just heard. _A prophecy. Another prophecy!_

"Minerva, you may enter," called a voice she knew, and Minerva quickly opened the door and stepped inside, seeing her colleague, Professor Trelawney, sitting in a seat before the Headmaster, and Albus himself just settling down, taking off his traveling cloak and hat.

"Oh, Albus, I didn't see you there," said Trelawney, blinking and shaking her head as though just waking from a nap. "I must have dozed off there, for a bit."

_Of course, Sybill has never remembered her own prophecies. That is good, I think. _Minerva fought the urge to rub her temples. _Lord Voldemort shall strike tonight? He will mark his equal? Harry!_

Albus only twinkled his eyes at the Divinations professor, then turned to look up at Minerva, silently forbidding her from speaking of what just occurred. "Not to worry, my dear Sybill. I'm afraid we are, all of us, getting older—and it is certainly natural of those light dozes to sneak up on us."

"True, true," said Trelawney with her usual breathy vagueness, as though she were floating along in the clouds. "I foresee many more years for you, Albus, to live, and must warn you to be careful of these dozes—"

"Or what, Sybill?" interrupted Minerva with her usual disdain. _Just shut your mouth and leave, please. I am not in the mood for your usual worthless drivel!_ "Will Albus suddenly doze off and never wake? Is this what you are warning him of?"

Trelawney glared up at her, her misty façade vanishing like smoke, as she hotly muttered loudly to herself, pointedly in Minerva's direction so she would hear, "Those without the Sight will always feel jealous of those who do. I must remember this."

Minerva kept herself from rolling her eyes. _Get out of here, Sybill. Albus and I must talk. Especially about this new prophecy you've just sprouted._

_Light! _thought Minerva, with a burst of impatience. _The prophecy said tonight! Tonight!_

"Minerva, we all have our separate callings," said Albus disapprovingly. "For you it is Transfigurations, as Divinations is for Sybill. Now, I know you have only known of each other for little more than two years, yet we must all still make an effort to get along." Minerva glared coldly, and he sighed. "Well, Sybill, why were you waiting for me in my office, if I may ask?"

"It was my Inner Eye, Albus," said Trelawney, her misty voice back. "I was given the Sight of my being in your office as being of utmost importance, and thus I came in accordance to Fate's will."

"Indeed," said Albus with a pleasant expression of patience. Minerva thought she would die with impatience. "We are fortunate that Fate visits you on such occasions. And I must say, you have been most helpful, and have accomplished your goal, though you may not perhaps remember."

Trelawney nodded, as though she expected that. "Yes, I did feel that my light doze was one that was induced. Perhaps you heard me speak of a prophecy of great importance?" This she said with a pointed glare in Minerva's direction, as though wanting the Transfigurations professor to know that she had just made a true prophecy. _You are grasping at straws_, thought Minerva wryly. _You do not even know if it was a prophecy you spoke. Sybill, you are an utter fool_.

"Perhaps," said Albus, with a gentle, indulging smile. "Alas, Fate works in ways none but the greatest of seers, such as yourself, understand. Thank you, once again, Sybill, for gracing my office, and with your Sight."

"It was no problem at all, Professor Dumbledore," said Trelawney, standing. _At least she knows a dismissal when she hears one_. "I will return to my rooms, now. Minerva, I foresee much trouble ahead for you. Do be careful where you step." Trelawney said the last as though she wished the exact opposite, but Minerva just looked on sternly at her, until the Divinations professor left. _Yes, an utter fool. _

"Minerva, I assume you heard the prophecy?" said Albus, the moment the door shut and Trelawney's footsteps receded.

Minerva nodded tightly. "We must move quickly, again, it seems. Lord Voldemort has decided to strike at the Chosen One, _again_."

Albus raised an eyebrow, and she realized two seconds too late that she had slipped up in her impatience. _Of all the idiotic things I could have done, that is the very worst! _But to her surprise, though she didn't show it, the Headmaster commented on a completely different part of what she had said. "I was not aware that you spoke his name, Minerva. I must commend you."

Thoughts racing, she forced herself to nod gracefully. _Light, I am not in the mood for these games! We must move!_ "Yes, dueling with the Dark Lord tends to negate the foolish awe that surrounds him."

"Indeed," said Albus gravely. "I have heard of your duel, and of your misfortune. Is your shoulder healed?"

_Albus, we have no time for this!_ In fact, Minerva decided a split second later, she would tell him so. She narrowed her eyes, and spoke coldly, "Albus, we have not time for this. You know of what the prophecy speaks. Before midnight, Sybill has said. We have not much time to move."

"True, true," said Albus, reaching for a lemon drop. "Very interesting, is it not, Professor Trelawney's true prophecies? The first one, we know but half; the second one, speaks of the marking of the Chosen One. Both pertain to Lord Voldemort, and both give us hope that there will one day come a time when peace shall reign. Marvelous to know that it may happen, don't you agree, Minerva?"

Minerva frowned. _What is he doing? Why is he so calm about this? Why does he speak of these philosophical nonsense?_ "Albus," she said slowly, meeting his twinkling gaze, and enunciated clearly every word, "Lord Voldemort will strike tonight. Tonight, Albus. At the stroke of midnight."

"The most interesting thing about Sybill's prophecies, and of course, about true prophecies in general, is that they will always come true and occur just as they were predicted, Minerva," said the Headmaster calmly, as though he had not heard her speak. _What is he trying to say? _Their eyes met. _What is your riddle, Albus? _"No matter how we try to fight either for or against—what will come, will come. There is large hall in the Department of Mysteries devoted to these true Prophecies, and history has shown that not a one of them were false. Truly fascinating, is it not?"

The Transfigurations professor blinked in shock, then felt horror. _No_. She refused to believe him. _He cannot mean that, he cannot mean—_"You," Minerva's eyes were wide, "you will not do anything to stop him?" _I did not know you were so lost, Albus. How could you? _Even prepared, even having looked into the Headmaster's pensieve, she could not ever have readied herself for this. For this ultimate betrayal of the Light.

"You will stand by and watch as the Dark Lord marks a _child_?" Minerva realized in the back of her mind that her voice was starting to sound rather hysterical, but she did not care at this moment. "You will sit here and eat candy while Lord Voldemort destroys the life of a _toddler?_"

"Hardly destroy, Minerva," said Albus, with a slightly puzzled expression gracing his features. He seemed honestly confused at her reaction. "He will mark the child, whether Harry or Neville, and give us our chance to win."

"Albus," she said breathlessly in complete disbelief, "you are mad. You are mad."

The Headmaster smiled indulgingly, as if to a child. "Yes, I have heard many speak of my eccentricities, Minerva. Lemon drop, perhaps?"

Minerva stared. _No. Albus, please, no. No, no, no._ She could not breath. She could not think. She could only look at Albus, and feel her heart wrench. _You have—you will—how could—_no! At this last thought her magic lashed out, and she found herself standing, suddenly, with the Headmaster looking up at her in surprise. Her wand was tightly held within her grip, and the chair behind her spun away, lashed from her Accidental Magic, and crashed loudly against the wall.

"You will truly do _nothing?_" Her voice was tight, with rage, with betrayal, with disbelief. "You will leave a _defenseless_ child for Voldemort to toy with?" Again her magic threatened to spin out of her control. "You will sacrifice a _baby_ for a _chance?_" Her nearly hysterical eyes met surprised blue, and she hoped dearly that the Headmaster saw her disgust.

_Albus, you are hurting me so greatly. Do you know this? Do you know how much you are hurting me at this moment? Can you see the tears of betrayal frozen within my eyes?_

She spoke again in a last desperate whisper, a final question of her utter disbelief, a final cry of her _horror_. "You will betray the Potters and the Longbottoms?" _You will betray Harry again?_

The Headmaster narrowed his eyes. He moved his hand carefully, gently flicking his wand in a non-threatening way, as though he thought she were a dangerous animal about to bite at any provocation, and repaired the chair. "Minerva, please sit. It seems I was not clear in my explanation. Sit, and I shall attempt to explain better."

She stared at him, still standing.

He sighed. "My dear Minerva, I did not say I was simply going to allow this to happen, without a fight. I certainly don't intend to leave the children defenseless to Lord Voldemort—it is an image I shudder to think of."

"Then what do you plan? Why are you still here, instead of checking on the Longbottoms? On the Potters?" she snapped.

Albus only looked at her, and answered in such a way that made her magic explode in rage and fury.

"Because I know that they have already been kidnapped."

* * *

Harry was in a cage, a large cage, but a cage nevertheless. Like animals they had been herded inside and locked up, wands taken away instantly. His parents and he were not the only ones. There were many cages, some large and holding a dozen wizards and witches, other small enough to hold only one or two. James and Lily, and Harry, had been herded to one of the smaller ones, and the family were the only ones in their particular cage. 

"Dolohov, I see your mission was a success," said Lord Voldemort from where he stood, beside a naked billowing fire. "I am greatly pleased. You have honored your name and the name of your family tonight."

Harry saw Dolohov, a darkly robed figure sprawling before the evil that was the Dark Lord. And behind him, bound by magic, with silent screaming, gaping mouths, and with terror and torture-filled eyes, were thirteen _Mudblood_ children, all looking to be about seven years old.

The Dark Lord, a tall imposing figure, walked around them as though a wolf checking out his prey, and Harry could see with hatred the trembling of the boys and girls, the tears of utter fear streaming from their faces. They were sobbing silently, their voices silenced by magic for the time being—though one girl was soundlessly screaming for her mother—and Lord Voldemort finally spoke, "Excellent, Dolohov. These vermin will do. I trust you damaged them not?"

"No, my Lord," said Dolohov from his prostrating position. "I have only bound them and silenced them, as per your orders."

The Dark Lord said nothing for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Prepare them, then. You know what to do."

"Immediately, my Lord," said Dolohov as he stood.

Lord Voldemort turned back to the fire, as though contemplating something, before his harsh voice pierced the silence once more. "Minister Bagnold, I hope you are not too inconvenienced by this impromptu meeting of mine. I have been informed of how busy you were, planning to push various laws for better security and to provide a—what was it?—yes, to provide _a stronger front against this so-called Dark Lord_, I believe?" The Minister didn't speak. She was in her own cage, Harry saw, and was glaring silently and unafraid at the Dark Lord. "Ah, nothing to say? That is quite a disappointment, I must admit. After all, I went through all the trouble of arranging it so that you would be here today. Young Crouch's work will be wasted, then. Do you still have nothing to say? A pity."

The tall, imposing figure whipped around, and suddenly faced Harry and his parents. "And the Potters! What say you, Mr. Potter? It is a privilege that you are here today, I do hope you know."

Lily held Harry tighter to her from her position on the cage floor, for she was still too weak from her concussion to stand. In fact, as Harry caught a glimpse of her tired face, he wondered how she even managed to stay awake. Her eyes were watery from weariness, her face haggard with a lack of strength, and her eyes drooping closed every now and then.

James growled, baring his teeth, as he moved to shield his family from sight. "Shut up, Voldemort. You know as well as we do that this is no _privilege_! You—"

"I do not recall ever asking you, James Potter," said the Dark Lord coldly. "I asked Mr. Potter, Harry Potter." _No, you did _not_ just fucking do that, you evil bastard!_

There was silence, and even the Death Eaters prowling around froze when they heard that.

"Ah, I see he has yet to tell you," said Lord Voldemort, amused. _Of course I haven't, you stupid Slytherin _snake!

Lily looked down at Harry, frowning, and even James turned around with bewildered eyes to look down at him. _Well, let's see if they believe you! _"Mama! Dada!" He giggled, and squealed. Lily smiled sadly down at him, and James laughed bitterly.

"You're crazy, Voldemort," said the baby's father, chuckling darkly. "You're crazy."

Lord Voldemort seemed to almost explode with rage as his magic wakened, the air turned vile to breath—but then it was gone, and the Dark Lord laughed with an insane pitch. "It is of no matter, Harry Potter. You have your parents fooled, of course you do. I would be disappointed if you had not." Then he spun around, back to the fire. "Yes, no matter. The eve of All Hallow is coming to a close, and the Day of the Dead draws near. _Bellatrix!_"

"My Lord," a slim figure detached itself from the shadows, and gracefully knelt before the fire and her Lord.

"I find myself getting impatient," hissed Lord Voldemort. "What is taking your husband so long?"

"My Lord," said Bellatrix, her former disgustingly sweet voice turning smooth before her Lord, "I don't know what is taking him so long. I haven't heard from him since he reported an hour ago."

"Excuses, excuses, Bellatrix! I shall accept none from my Death Eaters! Find him, and inform him that his Lord demands he hurry!" Bellatrix bowed and rose, Apparating away. "The end is almost here! The time has almost come! Soon, the Celebration of Darkest Night can begin in earnest!" The fire behind the Dark Lord suddenly exploded as he screamed with mirth—but the flames were not the red and yellow mixture of purity, but rather a sickly dark color with flecks of sickly green that gave it a tainted look. Lord Voldemort cackled with a crazy and insane laughter that pierced the air with its madness, a chilling—

Then there was an abrupt silence as Lord Voldemort froze. The fire died down to its usual size. Shadows once more filled the area. And the silence stretched.

_What's going on? Why is he frozen like this?_

And stretched.

_Did he have a heart attack, or something? _Harry thought hopefully. _Is he having a seizure?_

And still there was no sound, nor word, from the Dark Lord.

_Okay, now I'm starting to get worried. This is not normal._

Perhaps three minutes passed, wherein Lord Voldemort did not move, before he seemed to _shudder_—then Harry heard him let out a hiss, almost like a sigh. "Young men are fools," he hissed, both with amusement and disdain. "I shall have to speak to that fool, later. But not now. He is still in pain." _What is he talking about?_

Lord Voldemort turned once again, and Harry saw his hood move from left to right, as he surveyed his _guests_. "The time draws near, indeed, my dear guests. All Hollow's Eve is drawing to a close, and soon the Celebration shall begin. The Day of the Dead is almost upon us. Yes, almost upon us."

There were three small _pop_ noises, and three Death Eaters materialized at the edge of sight. Lord Voldemort turned to face them. "Ah, yes, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, and Bellatrix. Fortunate that you have arrived now. Have you done as I requested?"

"My Lord," replied a powerful voice, and Rabastan Lestrange knelt with a flourish. "We have done exactly as you have commanded."

"Excellent! You have pleased me, Rabastan," cried the Dark Lord, his voice a high-pitch. "Was there any trouble?"

"No, my Lord," answered the other Lestrange, Rodolphus, with a quieter voice, though just as deadly. "There was no trouble. We were careful."

Before the Dark Lord could reply, however, there was another soft _pop_ noise, and a regal form materialized right before Lord Voldemort, and bowed low to the dirt floor. "It is ready, my Lord. The time has come."

There was a short silence, as though everyone was holding their breaths, and Lord Voldemort cried in delight a moment later, "The time has come, indeed!" He spread his arms out, and the fire behind him roared—though for some strange reason, the shadows surrounding the Dark Lord grew darker and shadier.

_The Dark is rising_, Harry thought with dread. _All Hollow's Eve draws to a close, Halloween night is ending, and the Day of the Dead is soon to begin. Light, save us all…._ He remembered, oh yes he did, the terrible night last year, in the future, when Lord Voldemort had reenacted the Celebration of Darkest Night. It had been horrible, atrocious to the greatest degree.

For tonight, Halloween, was the night when the shadows were boldest, when the influence of Light was at its weakest. For tonight was the night of deepest dark, when the passageway to Death was slowly opened. For tonight was the eve of the Day of the Dead, when the souls of dead children ran free _and_ chained.

_Minerva and I should have realized Voldemort would Celebrate this year. He had been stopped, sixteen years ago because of me, but this time he is free to invoke the Celebration. We should have realized this. We should have._

"Come! Come, my loyal Death Eaters! Gather to the Dark Mark, and join the Celebration of Darkest Night!" Suddenly Death Eaters were _everywhere_, becoming visible from where they once stood hidden in shadows, and the cages holding altogether thirty or so unwilling guests were lifted and tossed into the air. There was laughter, and there was laughter. There were screams, and there were screams. The moon seemed to disappear within the clouds, leaving only the source of light from Voldemort's tainted flames.

"_TO DIAGON ALLEY!_"

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK-CRACK-CRACRACRACRACARACK!

The cages were Portkeyed and the world spun, and spun, and spun. A mess of streaking starlight and dark clouds swirled, eight moons darted around, and the darkness gathered like shadows in the corners of a dark room. The world was a whirlwind of sights, silver clashed with green, black with white, and dark with light. It spun, and spun, and spun. It swirled, it twisted. There was screaming, and there was scream—

Diagon Alley exploded into view far below—an instant before the cages crashed into the ground a hundred feet under where they had appeared. Harry and his parents' cage landed in an empty space in the street, but some others did not. There were fresh screams, as several human bodies were flattened under the weight of heavy magically-reinforced steel bars. Blood splattered everywhere, and at times pieces of torn human parts flew into the air. There were more and more crashes as more and more cages landed home; some landing in the street, others into the shops and stalls. Harry looked around with dizzy eyes, and saw the spreading panic among the peoples of Diagon Alley.

Then Lord Voldemort appeared, his Death Eaters a second after, drawing more screaming and more panic, more fear and more terror. The masses of shoppers, of students, of adults, of shopkeepers, turned into a sea of terrified individuals out only for themselves. Friends shoved friends, husbands ran without care for their wives, and the vice versa alike. Parents left children, children left parents. Lovers ran screaming in opposite directions—

Then the harsh, cold voice of Lord Voldemort exploded and soared over the panic like a mighty fist of noise, and he cried powerfully with triumph, "_I am Lord Voldemort!_"

The Dark Mark burst into form in the cloudy sky above, surging with the darkness of the heavens above, a massive ghastly image of tainted dark that could be visible even in Muggle London. And with it more Death Eaters arrived, by Portkey or by Apparition, and even some stepping away from the masses, once hidden among them.

The panic became more manic and frenzied, if it were possible, and the screaming heightened. Children were trampled on, adults slipped on the blood of those who were crushed, and—

Silver fire sparked, and as though invisible lines of grease were caught on fire, so too did a hundred hidden lines laid down hours previous by Death Eaters catch onto that silvery spark. The flames, shining with an ethereal glow of dark silver, burst forth as though fanned, and, like following a spider's web, it raced along the prewritten lines of magic. It tore through human bodies with ease, it caged the masses along its lines. A net forbidding Apparition and Portkeys was laid down with the silvery lines of fire. The lines sped and flowed, swiftly encompassing the whole of the street, aided by more and more silvery sparks as the Death Eaters spread out and lit the hidden lines on fire.

Then it was done. Racing lines met racing lines, silvery fire flowed unending from one side to the other. A vast network of a spider's net was cast. The Shield of _Scathach_ had been raised, invoked by the silvery lines of blood taken fresh from the living, drained from the unwilling, and poured fourth exactly three hours and thirty-three minutes before its invocation.

"_The Celebration of Darkest Night has begun!_" the Dark Lord's harsh voice thundered, commanding fear and terror from all. "_Welcome everyone, welcome to _my_ night!_"

Lord Voldemort laughed shrilly and with maniac delight. The shadows seemed to take delight with him, and the clouds above shielded away the moon and its counter-light. Death, destruction, and above all the perversion of Light reeked evil into the nostrils and mouths of all those present.

There was laughter, and there was laughter.

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**_To be continued…._**

**_Chapter Six: _The Boy Who Lived** _will be updated soon, but reviews help shorten the time. So take the hint and _review!_ A simple, "Wonderful!" or a "Love it!" will do! Even simple messages like that inspire authors to write more!

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**Ending Notes:**

As you can see from the title of this chapter itself, my outline of the story has gone a little out of shape. Things happened that weren't supposed to happen, and the result is that the showdown between Lord Voldemort and the Chosen One will be encompassed in _two_ chapters, instead of the original _one_ that I was hoping for.

This chapter was rather short, but it couldn't be helped. It ended just in the right place. The next part will begin just in the right place. So, there is a bit of a cliffie, but not bigger than the last chapter. In any case, the twists that weren't supposed to happen are slowing me down, because I wasn't prepared to deal with them. But I think I have another outline in mind, and that I can incorporate it into what I had before. I hope.

So, anyway, here we are. I love this chapter title, **And There Was Laughter**. It, I don't know, just makes me want to shiver—which isn't necessarily a good thing, but it adds a certain touch to this story.

The next chapter will be hard to write. Lots of interaction with LV and Harry. Lots of interaction between Minerva and Dumbles. Oh, and let's not forget Snape. I have a lot of threads to keep track of, but I think I can manage it. I hope so, anyway.

Read the "_To be continued…."_ section for the date of the next upload. Happy **_reviewing!_**

Comments always welcome.

_-- liath_

_(5.14.06)

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	8. CH06: Those Burning Bones

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_Chapter Six:_ Those Burning Bones

_by Taliath

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"_What?_" Minerva snarled in a way she had never done before, and her magic responded in a way never before. Torrents flooded from her in amounts she _knew_ she never possessed before, and flooded the Headmaster's office with her rage.

"You _know?_" She spat, and her magic spat as well. The very air rippled, and with a flash the shelves lining the room exploded in a shower of broken glass and pottery, shredding apart the numerous tomes of books and figurines—

Albus struck, and she found herself perfectly calm. Her magic settled down gracefully. Her rage and fury vanished like smoke. She looked up, slightly puzzled as to why she was standing, and met Albus' sad and disappointed eyes. "Albus, whatever happened to your office?"

"I'm afraid you damaged it, Minerva," replied the Headmaster sadly.

Minerva frowned. "I did?" She arched an eyebrow, looking around at the shattered pieces of wood and clay and glass.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Alas, you were quite angry about something I said."

She tried to recall, but found herself stuck, as though she were lost within clouds, and could not focus. Her hand reached up and brushed her forehead as she slowly shook her head. "Are you quite certain, Albus? I cannot recall—"

"Yes, Minerva, it was truly unfortunate, yet I was forced to calm you down and allow you to forget, as it seemed your rage would—"

"What?" she said sharply, her eyes narrowing. "You forced me to calm down?" There was an odd sensation in the back of her mind, as though some part of her subconscious were clawing out of a deep dark tunnel, but she ignored it for now.

_How could he have gotten through my Occlumency shields? How could I have let him bind my mind to his will? I promised never to allow that to happen again._ But she couldn't find within her any rage, or anger, to draw on. She was perfectly calm, and peaceful. _I must have been quite distressed for my Occlumency shields to have deteriorated enough for him to pass through_. Well, no matter, she felt perhaps he was right to have restrained her. After all, she could have truly hurt him if she had been enough out of control to destroy the office. Yes, yes, he was right to—

—to _bind her will?_ The clawing at the back her mind became frantic. Minerva felt agitation, and frowned. "I suppose if I were distressed enough to damage your office like this, you were right to have restrained me, Albus." For some reason, it just _hurt_ her to say that.

Albus nodded, with the twinkling slowly starting again within his blue eyes. "I'm glad you see it that way, Minerva. You have no idea how worried I was when you began to demolish my office. Alas, it frightened me to think that—"

But Minerva found she couldn't hear him, and his voice faded away as the clawing within her mind became ever more desperate, and she felt her mind feel about to tear apart. She stood frozen as her ears roared with imaginary wind, as she swam within a thick fog that was being hacked apart, as her mind wrenched, as her desperate conscious clawed free and—

—and she_ remembered._ Her eyes widened as she broke free from Albus' spell, of his falsehood, of his tainted Light, and with roaring fury her magic woke in a visible burst of flowing light. The Headmaster was looking up at her with shocked blue eyes, and she spoke, "_Albus Dumbledore! You_—"

The Headmaster struck again—and she was swimming, and she was fighting, and she was drowning, and she was free again. Her shields of Occlumency sprang up, clearing away her red-hot rage, but it left instead a cold wintry anger that was in a way more powerful than her previous roaring flames of rage. It was a cold light that her magic's form took, lacking the usual warmth and welcoming that she usually would have associated with the Light. No, at this moment, her magic was just as cold with anger as she felt, and—

Albus' voice pierced through her winter-storm of ice, a loud commanding voice that drew her in. "_Minerva!_ Please, calm down!"

"_Calm down?_" Minerva suddenly found hysterical laughter passing through her lips, and could not stop it. _Albus has tried to bind me, again. _She could not believe this. She just could not. _And now he asks me to _calm down? To calm down?Was he serious?

"I am sorry, Minerva," said Albus, and he truly did sound sorry. _But that's the thing! _Minerva wanted to scream and yell._ You are always sorry! You are always truly sorry—and yet you never stop! _"I was truly concerned for you, and I was going to explain everything to you in a calm manner, then release you, Minerva. I give you my word, I would have released you from the spell!"

_Oh, Albus, how can I trust you now? How dare you ask me to trust you now? _She could not stop the tears flowing from her eyes. Her magic flowed over her skin—and a stray thought entered her mind: the strength of her magic. _How the hell is my magic so powerful? Why do I possess so much magic? This isn't normal. _She had never been quite this powerful_. How am I so strong? I am near Albus' strength!_

But she forced it away, and looked down at the solemn blue eyes of her mentor, and she wished to weep. For what he had become, for what he had been, for the trust that was now eternally torn between the two of them.

"Minerva, please, forgive me. I did not think—"

"_Stop_." Her voice lashed out harshly and her magic snarled, and the Headmaster froze. "Before I tear this office apart, shut your mouth, Dumbledore. You know of my oaths to the Light, and why I spoke them."

"Yes, I do—"

"_Quiet_," she snapped. Albus simply sat with his hands folded before him, and peered up at her with grave sadness clearly on his face. She snarled. "Then tell me why you thought I would take and sanction your binding of my will. Explain to me your reasoning, else I will leave now and never return, Albus. Answer carefully."

"You were, and are, not in the right state of mind, Minerva," said Albus sorrowfully, after a moment. "You were angry, and I understand why. However, I believed that if you were to listen to me, you would understand the reasoning behind _why_ I did what I did."

She spoke only one word. "Reasoning?"

"Yes, Minerva," agreed the Headmaster. "I had a very good reason to force you to calm down. You know this, Minerva, you know _this_. You have known me for quite nearly sixty years, now. You know I would not have acted the way I did without great reasoning."

She could only shake her head with disbelief. _No, Albus, it's very clear to me now that I don't know you. _"Tell me."

Her eyes met grave blue, and Albus finally nodded. "I shall then attempt to explain everything to you, Minerva, in hopes that you understand why and what exactly it is that I did."

The Headmaster breathed in deeply, then began, "It begins with the aftermath of Voldemort's attack on the Potter manor this morning, and his diversion at the Longbottom residence.

"I was informed by a certain friend of mine at the Department of Mysteries," _Nicholas_, thought Minerva, "that the Unspeakables had found suspicious magical activity in some of the Muggle cities and towns within Great Britain, and had reason to believe that those activities were caused by Death Eaters.

"Naturally, I asked for the locations and examined them myself, and found in each location a brutal murdering of innocent Muggle children. _Children_, Minerva," Albus, for a split second, seemed on the verge of losing control of himself, but that moment passed. "Children," he repeated more calmly. "Their bodies were found to have been drained of blood. There were no wounds on the children, except for a scar on their foreheads, looking suspiciously like a lightning bolt." Minerva had to stop herself from gasping out loud. _Harry, oh Harry, it seems Lord Voldemort is not best pleased with you_.

"However, once I carefully observed the children, I was able to conclude that it was indeed magic that drew forth the blood from them, and that the scars, while apparently appearing like lightning bolts, were in fact crudely carved letter _S_'s, which I believe stand for _Slytherin_.

"Now, I immediately returned to my friend, and informed him of my finds, and was told that my conclusions matched those of the Department, and that already Unspeakables were searching for a reason to explain why Lord Voldemort felt the need to draw blood from thirteen _Muggle_, not magical, children.

"Alas, I, believing that perhaps the answer lay in Godric's Hollow, wherein Lord Voldemort had struck at latest, visited the ruins of the Potter mansion. For it concerned me to think of what might have occurred within that room, between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort."

Minerva shook her head stiffly. "What might have occurred? In case you have not noticed, Harry Potter is a toddler. Whatever could have occurred between the two?"

"Does it not concern you, Minerva, that the Dark Lord left the child alone?" Albus leaned forward, as though intent on convincing her. "Lord Voldemort attacked Godric's Hollow to kill Harry. To get rid of his rival, the Chosen One. Voldemort chose Harry, not Neville, and set out to destroy him. So why did he leave the child alone? Poppy has told me that the baby was unmarked in every way, both physically and magically." Albus leaned back, and Minerva met his blue eyes. "What could have possibly occurred that stopped Lord Voldemort from carrying out his original plan? What, Minerva?"

_He stopped because he remembered._ Voldemort had stopped because he had suddenly remembered the future, Minerva knew, but Albus did not. _But, of course, trust Albus to make a big deal out of this_. "And what did you find at the manor?"

_Light, time is ticking away! The Potters and the Longbottoms have been kidnapped. We have but a little time to get ready._ But she knew she had to deal with Albus Dumbledore first; for he was the key to their victory. Harry was still too young to balance the influence of Lord Voldemort, as he had done in the future—and as Albus had to do now, in order for them to have a chance.

Albus looked up at her and answered with wonder in his voice, with a hesitancy that Minerva had rarely ever heard from the Headmaster. "I found power…. I found echoes of magic still resonating within the walls and floorboards. I found wildness." She saw him draw in a deep breath, then heard him speak, "_Minerva_, I found our Chosen One."

_What? _Minerva's eyes widened despite her efforts to control herself, and she finally sat down, unable to support herself through her shock. _Albus knows. He knows we came back from the future. He must. Otherwise, how would he know that Harry is from the future? That he is the Chosen One?_ For Albus must have somehow been able to watch the past, perhaps using a spell to refocus the echoes of time, and he must have heard Harry and Voldemort speak. _Oh, light help us now._ She looked up at him, and spoke, "How did you find out?"

Albus leaned back, his intent eyes capturing her own, and nodded as though satisfied at her reaction, as though he had known she would act like this. As though he had known she was from the future. _Of course he knows_, thought Minerva nauseatingly, _how could he not? How could I have thought we could hide this from him? _She dropped her eyes to her hands, and thought bitterly, _Albus, you are as omniscient as always_.

"Yes, Minerva," she heard him say. "Harry James Potter is our Chosen One, the one with the power the Dark Lord knows not. You know this as well."

She closed her eyes, and nodded feebly. _He knows. Albus Dumbledore knows. _But was this a bad thing? Would having the Headmaster know that they were from the future be such a horrible thing?

She repeated her earlier question, and was surprised to find that her voice was rather calm. "How did you find out?"

"The same way you did, I presume," said the Headmaster, amused.

_What?_ Minerva sat very still, and fought with all her strength not to move, or act surprised. _What the hell?_ What in the world was going on? What did he mean by that?

"You must have felt it, just as I did, Minerva," said the Light Lord, and Minerva forced herself not too look up, for he would see her shock, then. _What in the Light is going on?_ "The child is extraordinary in mental capability, a Metamorphmagus, and contains within him an amount of power I would have thought impossible. You must have noticed, as I did, when you entered the room where Harry and Lord Voldemort were within—a child able to match the Dark Lord in strength. Harry Potter, a toddler of fifteen months, was able to summon his wild power in the face of his mother's tortured cries."

Minerva stared at her hands, holding herself completely still, and felt the deepest of relief flood through her mind. She could have screamed with joy at this moment. _He doesn't know. He doesn't know we're from the future. Light, he doesn't know! _She had been jumping to conclusions, and disastrously wrong ones at that.

"Yes, Minerva, you must have sensed it as well, as did I. The boy is powerful, unbelievably so—and resonates magical strength in a way Neville Longbottom never has. And perhaps we are wrong, perhaps strength has nothing to do with the Chosen One—but I highly doubt it. Harry Potter is our Chosen One, I am certain of it. And you must have been, as well. You mentioned it earlier in our conversation."

_Yes, I did. And I thought I made a mistake, then. I thought Dumbledore might not have caught it, when he focused instead on the fact that I spoke Lord Voldemort's name. Oh, what a fool I am! He just assumed that I made the same observations as he had, and reached the same conclusions! Our secret is still safe. He didn't hear Harry speak._

Minerva thought she now knew what spell Albus had cast in order to collect this information. There was one particular spell that would gather the resonating essence of magic within a certain area, and allow the wizard or witch to see what spells were cast, and at what time. The _Recolligo Praesentia_ was what it was called.

_Albus must have used it, and found that most of the power resonating within the room was from Harry, and that it had risen up to challenge Lord Voldemort only after the Cruciatus had been cast. Yes, that must be what happened, and that must be why Albus reached the conclusions he had._

"You know of my belief concerning love, that love is the most powerful magic out there, Minerva," continued the Headmaster. "Harry's love for his mother, his pain when she was tortured—yes, I know Lord Voldemort cast the Cruciatus on Lily, the _Recolligo Praesentia_ informed me—allowed the child to reach into his untapped power. Love, Minerva, _love_. That is the power the Dark Lord knows not, as Sybill just mentioned, and that is the key to Harry Potter's wild power. He is our Chosen One."

Minerva heard Albus reach for another Lemon Drop, and finally found the strength to look up. She still felt anger at him, yet she also felt so terribly weak and wanted to let go of her anger, for it drained her so. She wasn't at the height of her strength and control. It had been such a long day. She had battled with Transfigurations Mistress Lysandra Yaxley, drained her _Manifestation_, fought Lord Voldemort, faced Harry within her chambers, spent hours picking her memories apart to record it, and now this with Dumbledore—all within the span of a single day. She was _exhausted_.

"Alas, we have strayed from our original discussion," said Albus. "You may, perhaps, be wondering what this might have to do with our original misunderstanding—allow me to connect the dots. Now, suffice to say, it took me perhaps an hour to set the confines and begin the spell for the _Recolligo Praesentia_—you would know this well, Minerva, I am aware of your experience with this particular spell. However, once I reached my conclusions and released the spell, I immediately became aware that my certain friend from the Department of Mysteries had been attempting to contact me for nearly the whole duration.

"The reason for his urgency, I found out within minutes, was that there was another surge of suspicious magical activity rippling through the Muggle world—except this one was of Muggle-born magical children being kidnapped, as opposed to being slaughtered for their blood. Seven had gone missing by the time I reached the office of my certain friend, and there was talk already among the Unspeakables of including the Aurors and their Department, for these incidents were beginning to get out of hand. By the time the Head of their Department—you know Barty Crouch—was debriefed, eleven Muggle-born children were reported missing.

"Alas, you can imagine the stir it caused within the Ministry. Within the hour, Minister Bagnold had also been informed—though by this time, twelve children were reported missing. I was forced to reveal that Peter Pettigrew had given to Lord Voldemort a list of all Muggle-born children written down in the Book of Records. As you can also imagine, this caused quite another stir. Indeed, these stirrings were only heightened when certain informants of the Unspeakables reported activity within Diagon Alley itself—not hostile activity, but that there did seem to be a rather worrisome amount of suspect Death Eaters wandering the street.

"However, on the heels of this report came another from the Unspeakables, that their researchers had found several plausible explanations for Lord Voldemort needing the blood of thirteen Muggle children—and fortunately, they were able to narrow the list down to one, as only that particular one fit both the occasion, and the fact that Diagon Alley seemed to be quite crowded with suspect Death Eaters, and their sympathizers during the annual Diagon Alley Halloween Festival. Have you ever heard of the Shield of _Scathach_, Minerva?"

_Light, no! _Minerva had to fight herself in order to breath. _No, no, no! No!_

It still haunted her dreams, at times, the atrocity of the Shield of _Scathach_—the web of evil that had torn apart the great wards of Hogwarts. Thirteen times thirteen Muggles had been slaughtered, drained of their blood—and it had been poured all over the school grounds, and on the castle itself, by Death Eaters on brooms, unknown and undetected by the side of Light due to the very fact that the blood turned invisible because of the ritual of the Shield. And so on Halloween night, last year, Lord Voldemort had enacted the Shield, lit it on fire, and the defense shield of Hogwarts had been shredded apart.

It had been a night of true horror. For at one moment, they were all safe, under siege, but safe behind the never-fallen wards of Hogwarts—and the next, they were under fire, the wards had collapsed, and Lord Voldemort stormed the castle.

He had been pushed back out, of course. An small army of what was left of the Aurors, the Unspeakables, and the Order had managed to hold the Entrance Hall against their enemies for nearly a week. For nearly seven whole desperate days.

But at the end of the seventh, the Death Eaters had broken through, the Entrance Hall had been taken by Lord Voldemort—

And Harry had arrived, with him several dozen werewolves and vampires. Lord Voldemort had been turned away completely after a brief fight, for the Dark Lord had been unprepared to deal with the assembled army of such Dark creatures—especially since those very creatures had originally sided with him. He had sounded the retreat, and Hogwarts had been saved.

But the cost, oh, the _cost._ Minerva had been horrified to find out that Harry had foolishly promised the vampires the blood of all those who had been slain—even the blood of those on their side. There had been quite an outcry when the bodies of friends and family had to be given to the vampires, to be desecrated by the draining of their blood. Naturally, Harry had not been too popular at that moment. In fact, Minerva had heard many claim that they would have rather died, than to see their loved ones defiled so.

_And yet he saved us, and the vampires saved us. Yes, it had been horrifying to see all of our loved ones go to the vampires. But we had lived to fight another day. We lived to come back into the past, and fix it all. Had Harry not stepped in that day, with the werewolves and vampires at his back, I would not be here today, in the past, discussing the Shield of _Scathach_ with Albus Dumbledore._

_Oh, Light! The Shield of _Scathach!

"Minerva?" cut in Albus' voice, and Minerva blinked, looking up at him, and saw his narrowed blue eyes. "I would say that according to your reaction, it would be safe to assume you've heard of it?"

"Y-yes," said Minerva. She took in a deep breath, then released it, and spoke more calmly. "I have heard of it."

"Excellent, excellent." _What? How can you say that? _The Headmaster nodded. "Yes, that is what the Unspeakables, and by extension the Ministry, believed Lord Voldemort would invoke with the blood of those Muggle children. Adding this to the fact that suspect Death Eaters had been crawling up and down Diagon Alley, it became quite obvious to us all what the Dark Lord wished to accomplish."

"And what is that?" asked Minerva.

Albus replied gravely, "Think about it, Minerva. The lines of blood have been drawn in Diagon Alley, and you know now that the Longbottoms and the Potters have been kidnapped. Severus has been missing for nearly the whole day." The Headmaster looked at her expectantly, as though he thought she would solve the mystery right away.

And she found out, two seconds later, that yes, she could and did solve it right away—and her conclusion only horrified her.

"Yes, Minerva," said the Headmaster. "That is exactly what he wishes to accomplish. But he will not succeed. For this first time, I believe we have the upper hand of knowledge, Minerva. Lord Voldemort has overplayed his hand."

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When Harry looked around him, all he could see was the stunned look on people's faces. The shock and horror very evident in their expressions. Despair, hopelessness, and fear caused many to tremble and shiver involuntarily. The crowds were huddled together, drawing strength and warmth in numbers, though the lines of silver fire still separated the crowds into many small groups. An absolute silence had remained unbroken for a time, as terror's claws had smothered all attempts to talk or speak—of course, the Death Eaters dispersed along the street with ready wands also aided in the submission of the crowds. And the fact that all of the wands had been collected and snapped, broken beyond use, also had something to do with the absolute fear and terror of those huddled on the bloody streets of Diagon Alley. 

The silence, however, was broken periodically as a few foolish wizards and witches tried to either Apparate in or out, or even try to Portkey. Their screaming as the Shield splintered and splinched their bodies during those first few precious moments after the Dark Lord's welcoming had soon deferred others from trying the same.

The shimmering web of fire from the Shield of _Scathach_ had died down a little, then, and now it was a barely visible flickering in the dark night of Halloween—but it would still flare up the moment another fool tried his or her luck against it. Other than that soft, darkly illumination from the Shield, the only other source of light was sickly green of the Dark Mark still glowing above.

But the Dark Lord, a figure standing in a small area cleared of bodies and blood, was still visible; perhaps it was a spell, or his powerful presence, that drew the eyes of all those present—but he was most clearly visible even in the shadows of the small clearing. And when he spoke now, it was no longer amplified with the _Sonorus _charm, but a soft harshness that still could be heard by everyone.

"It has been many years since Diagon Alley has witnessed the traditional Pureblood celebrations that had once been prevalent in the ancient times," said Lord Voldemort coldly. "The Celebration of Darknest Night on the eve of All Hallows, on the eve of the Day of the Dead, could have been witnessed throughout the many communities of the Wizarding world before the Mudbloods and half-breeds abolished our customs and instead made _this!_" The Dark Lord spread his hands out, and pointed to the few carved pumpkins that remained hanging in the night air, and the decorations of what was left of the annual Diagon Alley Halloween Festival. "They have tainted our ways, they have sullied our culture, and they have _destroyed our traditions!_" The Shield of _Scathach_ suddenly flared up as it responded to the Dark Lord's anger, and Harry could hear several children sob with fear at the harsh glare of the dark silver fire.

"But no more," hissed Lord Voldemort. "_No more!_"

Then the darkness was lifted, and a thousand times a thousand flecks of colored light burst into a dance above the heads of the people of Diagon Alley. They danced and spun, swinging left and right, up and down. It was a dance of colors that would have awed many, a spiraling symphony of shades that merged and bounced—it was the most beautiful thing that Harry had ever seen.

Then the lights gathered and drew together, coalescing into a large circular sun above the Dark Lord's figure—above the heads of thirteen small forms arranged into a perfect circle around Lord Voldemort.

_Above the heads of the thirteen Muggle-born magical children._

The children was perfectly calm, having dreamy expressions on their faces that were induced, Harry instantly recognized, by the Imperious Curse. They were naked, and their small bodies were glistening with oil and grease, reflecting the flecks of light dancing above them.

Then thirteen Death Eaters approached, all of them wearing the marks of an Inner Circle member, and each stood directly behind one child with a silver knife in his or her hand.

"Yes, the Celebration of Darkest Night demands human sacrifice," said Lord Voldemort frostily as he looked each child in the face. "The blood of the tainted must be spilled. For it is written, _Thirteen must their numbers be, Seven Days must they have born witness; to them of Tainted Blood is sacrifice demanded, a Cleansing shall thus begin!_"

The thirteen children suddenly screamed, thirteen voices of boys and girls merging to become one hideous, piercing noise. The flecks of colored light dancing above froze to absolute stillness, and the Death Eaters raised their knives—

—and in a fluid motion slit the throats of the thirteen Muggle-born magical children.

"_The Blood of the Tainted have been spilled!_" cried the Dark Lord, his voice thundering with power. "_Now, my loyal Death Eaters, burn their flesh with the Light of the Wizarding world!_"

The mass of colored light frozen above the thirteen heads suddenly shot down into the gaping, silently screaming mouths of the children, and in an instant lit the grease and oils on their skin into a disgusting fire. A burst of red and orange flames danced on the skin of the children, the previous flecks of colored light disappeared all together, leaving the burning children the only sources of visible light other than the Dark Mark and the Shield.

"It is interesting, is it not?" spoke Lord Voldemort, his disgustingly amused voice clearly heard in the deathly silence, as people watched with gaping mouths as the children burned. "Did you know that our word, _bonfire_, comes originally from this very act of the Celebration of Darkest Night? It used to be called… _bone fire!_"

The Dark Lord gestured with his wand, and the bodies of the children suddenly exploded in a mess of flesh, blood, and organs, leaving only their skeletons remaining. The fire still danced however, danced on the bones of those who had once been thirteen Muggle-born children.

Bonfires of bones, they were indeed. Bone fires.

But it was not over yet. "_Now rise, bones of the Tainted Ones, you have been cleansed!_" Lord Voldemort raised his wand, and to Harry's horror, the bones rose up and bowed to their master. "_Go! And find those who, like you, are Tainted! Find them, and destroy them!_"

Harry could only watch with silent horror as the thirteen bundles of bones moved forward, passing through the flames of the Shield of _Scathach_ with no trouble, and began to sort through the huddled crowds. The screaming and screaming began again, the begging as fathers began to fight against the creatures of bone, the horrified yelling as more and more Muggle-borns were found among the huddled forms, and were brutally killed—by the snapping of the neck, or the tearing out of the jugulars. The thirteen burning creatures were uncaring as they sensed those of the Tainted, and destroyed them as their master had commanded.

_Light, no! No! This cannot be happening! He's killing all the Muggle-borns! NO!_

"It is a pity," Lord Voldemort's voice pierced once more through the screaming. "It is a pity that half-bloods will remain safe. Truly unfortunate—but only the truly Tainted will be cleansed tonight."

_A pity? You call this a pity? You are a half-blood, you fucking arsehole! A pity, indeed! You're just sparing yourself!_

But it was most surprising when one of the bone creatures abruptly moved against a Death Eater, tearing out his jugular. Even Lord Voldemort seemed surprised for a moment, before his face twisted into something Harry believed was simply_ evil_.

"It seems I had a Mudblood among my Death Eaters," the Dark Lord said harshly. "Let this be a lesson to you all. None can lie to me for long."

The worst, the very worst, was when a creature approached Harry's cage, and he remembered belatedly that his mother, Lily, was a Muggle-born witch. _No, I will destroy you before you can touch her! Just try, and I'll release such a wave of Accidental Magic that'll destroy you beyond all repair—even if it does kill me!_

But the creature took one look at the cage bars, before turning around and leaving, to Harry's complete surprise. _Voldemort must have limited the search to only those outside the cages!_

"—please no! Spare him! NO!"

"—Father! Father! Please—"

"He's not a Muggle-born! HE'S NOT A—"

"_DADDY! DADDY SAVE ME!_"

Harry heard his mother sobbing above him, he heard the screaming and the begging around him, he heard his father retching beside him.

"—Voldemort! I'm going to fucking kill you! You fucking—"

"—_Please, Light, save us! Save us_!"

Harry closed his eyes, and felt tears leak down his face as he listened to the tortured crying of mothers, wives, husbands, and children. He looked at the floor beneath him, and saw the blood running between the bars of the cage.

"_Alex! Alex, please, no! Alex! ALEX!_"

"She's a squib, not a Muggle-born! _Get your fucking hands off her—_"

"MUMMY! MUMMY! NO!"

Harry opened his eyes and saw men trying to fight back, and being killed for their troubles; women throwing themselves against the bones; children screaming with the rage of seeing their parents killed, jumping onto the bone fires to their deaths. _Light, no…._

And Lord Voldemort was laughing; he was laughing, and laughing, and laughing. "Where is Albus Dumbledore now? Where is your Light Lord?"

The smell, it was horrible. The stink of blood made Harry want to throw up. The smell of body organs ripped apart—it was repulsive.

"Where are your Aurors? Where is your Ministry?" cried the Dark Lord. "They have all failed you! They have hidden themselves from my might and power! They fear me, and they have failed you! Is this the kind of authority you want to have over you? An authority that hides in the face of trouble?"

_No. That is not the kind of authority we want. But neither do we want one like you, Lord Voldemort. The Ministry may have failed us, but you have destroyed us. What do you gain from killing Muggle-borns this night? You gain nothing but fear, nothing but disgust._

"MUM! MUM! You can't leave us!_ Don't leave me! Please, mum! _Don't die_…_"

_Don't die._

"TED! TED! _GET AWAY FROM THAT MONSTER!_"

_Get away_.

"ELIZABETH! NO! NO!... I love you… _I love you!_"

_Love._

"ANDY, _NO!_ NOO! I'M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING BONE SCUM!"

_Kill._

Enough.

Enough.

_ENOUGH_.

Harry opened his eyes and there were thirteen explosions.

Everyone froze. Everything was still.

"HARRY POTTER!" screamed Lord Voldemort, and he slashed his wand in Harry's direction.

Harry's cage exploded apart, and he felt himself being bodily lifted out and hurdled around—in the distant he heard his mother scream and his father roar—before his movement came to a complete stop. He found he was suddenly before Lord Voldemort, suspended in the air.

"How_ dare _you?" hissed the Dark Lord, his magic squeezing Harry tightly. "Do you know how much work it took to create my creatures? _Do you?_"

He could hardly breath as Lord Voldemort's magic cocooned him in a tight web, constricting him ever more, every second. The man screamed in anger, "_Again_ you have ruined my plans, Harry Potter! Will you _forever_ be a thorn in my side? _CRUC—_" Voldemort stopped, for some reason, and simply roared wordlessly in fury. The force keeping Harry suspended was abruptly gone, and he landed hard onto the wet ground below.

_Wet with blood. Disgusting_. Harry could barely keep conscious, as he felt his body weakened due to his earlier Accidental Magic outburst. _At least I got rid of those bone fires. Oh light, the children!_

"It seems you will continue to be a bramble in my hand, Harry Potter, until you are done away with," continued the Dark Lord in a much more controlled manner, though his anger was still very evident. Lord Voldemort nodded. "Very well. We shall move on from our entertainment, my dearest guests. I do hope you enjoyed this first part of tonight's line up. However, bring forth Neville Longbottom and Severus Snape!"

"No! _Not Neville!_ What are you doing?" screamed a voice, and Harry knew it belonged to Nevill's mum, Alice.

"Let go of him, you wench!" A Death Eater was attempting to pry the baby from his mother. _Not a very bright one, is he? _Harry thought weakly.

"I am getting _impatient_," hissed Lord Voldemort harshly. "What is taking you so long, Rookwood?"

"The bloody girl isn't letting him go, my Lord!"

"Then curse her, you fool! Must I dictate your every move?"

"_Crucio!_" Alice Longbottom screamed, and Harry saw Neville being snatched up when she involuntarily let go of her son.

"Good, now bring him here. Where is Severus?"

"My Lord, he is here," said Lucius Malfoy, and Harry's eyes widened as he saw the Potions Master being dumped onto the floor.

Severus Snape was a complete mess. He wasn't bleeding anywhere, and yet it was hideously obvious that only magic was keeping him from bleeding out. His barely covered body showed signs of beatings, magical and physical tortures. But the worst, Harry noted, was his eyes. They held a dull, glazed look that signified brokenness and helplessness. A look Harry had seen many times within his own eyes in the future.

It was the look of a shattered man.

Lord Voldemort flicked his wand, and Severus Snape was forced onto his feet, swaying as he did. "Harry, do you know what utterly _fascinating_ things young Severus has been telling me of?" The Dark Lord looked down at Harry, and continued when he didn't speak. "You will interested to hear, I think. Indeed, I was quite surprised myself."

_Whatever. I'm not going to talk. You can't fool me into it._

Lord Voldemort hissed, as though he heard Harry's thoughts. "No? Nothing? Very well. I shall tell you in any case, and shall also tell my guests." The tall figure turned to survey the silent crowds, again drawing their eyes through what Harry thought must have been a spell.

And the Dark Lord spoke, "After all, _the one with power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches_…."

_Light, no! No! He cannot! Not the Prophecy! Not in front of everyone!_

"_Born to those who have thrive defied him, born as the seventh month dies_," Lord Voldemort paused. "For the longest time, this was all that I knew of. The full words of the Prophecy had been beyond my reach—or so I thought. Imagine my utter surprise when Severus Snape, a Death Eater whom I had once considered one of my most loyal, knew of the full contents, and spoke naught of it to me.

"But now," Lord Voldemort laughed, and continued, "Now: _And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…._"

Harry followed the Dark Lord with his eyes as the tall figure paced around the small clearing. "You see, Harry Potter, now that I know the full Prophecy, I realize that I had made a profound mistake in your past. I marked you, didn't I? The Lightning Bolt scar, it was my mark. I am certain of it. Answer me, Harry. _Answer me!_"

But Harry didn't speak, and Lord Voldemort hissed coldly, "Very well, stay silent. It is of no matter to me. Better that you remain silent, than scream bloody murder as you did this morning in Godric's Hollow."

The Dark Lord waved his wand, and Harry was lifted back up into the air, until he was eye-level with the man. Neville was borne up as well, he saw. "Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. Both of you are potential candidates for the Prophecy. One a half-blood, the other a pureblood. One the heir to the House of Potter, the other the House of Longbottom. Both bloodlines have produced powerful wizards and witches for many generations. When I first heard the beginning lines of the Prophecy, I found myself presented with two choices, with two possible enemies, with two possible powerful wizards standing against me, and I had to narrow it down to one. How was I to choose? Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom."

Suddenly Lord Voldemort's wand was pointed at Harry's forehead. "And I chose _you_, Harry James Potter. And you became the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the figurehead of the Wizarding world, the Hero Who Nearly Vanquished the Dark Lord—and you became a bramble in my hand. A thorn in my side. A worthy opponent of whom might very well _challenge_ me. And _this cannot be_."

The Dark Lord swung around and struck his wand towards the center of the clearing. There was loud _whoosh_ as flames spurt forth and a sickly green fire was lit. "It is truly interesting, Harry Potter, to think of what a nuisance you must have been to me in your past. When I think your name, I feel fear and anger. When I dwell upon that Lightning Bolt scar that I marked you with, I tremble within. Why is this, Harry Potter? Why do I feel fear when I think of you? Your past, a branch of my future, is clouded to me. I cannot see clearly. But you can. You must. Why do I fear you, Harry Potter? Why do I hate the very sight of you? _Legilimens!_"

_No_, thought Harry. _You tried that before. I am nearly a master Occlumens—and you have forgotten what it means to love_.

Lord Voldemort screamed in anger as he was repelled, and Harry looked up just in time to see the Dark Lord point his wand at an innocent witch just outside the clearing. "_Crucio!_"

She screamed. And screamed. It did not stop for several minutes while both Harry and Lord Voldemort recovered, then the Dark Lord released her.

Lord Voldemort swung back around to face Harry. "As problematic as always, Harry Potter. Yes. It was you, was it not? Who stopped me from seizing the Sorceror's Stone? It must have been. And the Chamber of Secrets. Yes. The creature within the Chamber—you killed it? Yes. I am sure of it. But it is vague. I cannot remember any details." Again the wand rose up, and the Dark Lord cried harshly, "Perhaps you can shield your mind now, boy, but you will not forever! I will break through, and your past will be mine to know! _Legilimens!_"

The strike came across more powerfully than before, but it was still not strong enough to shatter Harry's mind. After all, how could Voldemort pass through a shield that not only was powerful enough to keep his attack at bay, but hurt him in the process?

Again the Dark Lord withdrew with a ragged roar of rage. And again, an innocent was tortured until both had recovered. "You, my boy, are a _pain_."

_And happy to be one_.

"_Legilimens!_"

To Harry's horror, he _did_ find himself begin to weaken. This time, he had barely been able to force back the attack. _Light, I can't let him know the future! That will be disastrous!_

"Again. _Legilimens!_"

_NO!_

"One last time, I think. _Legilime—_"

"My Lord Voldemort," interrupted a cool voice, and a regal-looking Death Eater stepped into the clearing. The same one that had announced that it was time, earlier, Harry saw. "The time grows short. Midnight approaches. It will come in eighteen minutes, my Lord."

The Dark Lord paused, and seemed to consider the Death Eater before him, a large man with blond hair splaying out from behind his mask. "Yes, yes, you are correct as always, Yaxley. And I have much left to do. Very well, you have done well to warn me. Now, go."

"My Lord," said Roderick Yaxley as he bowed—the nephew of Lysandra Yaxley, Harry recognized—before he turned and left the clearing.

"You are most lucky, Harry." The Dark Lord turned around, looking at the flames he had conjured. "Odd, for some reason, I sense that I've said this before to you. Have I not?"

_Yes. You told me that the last time I got away from you. The battle at the Ministry._

"Well, no matter. I have eighteen minutes. Let us not waste it."

Suddenly Lord Voldemort's wand snapped out, and Neville Longbottom screamed in pain from where he hung in the air.

"I chose you last time, Potter, and it was my most severe mistake," said the Dark Lord coldly. "I will not do so again. This time, _this time_, I choose Neville Longbottom. I shall mark this boy."

_What's he saying? Last time he marked me, he was vanquished for eleven years! Surely he knows not to try that again! At least, I wouldn't do it if I were him…._

… _could it be he doesn't remember how he marked me? Could it be he only remembers the scar?_

Interesting.

"Look, dear guests! _Look!_" thundered the Dark Lord as Neville Longbottom was hoisted up high into the night sky. The flames conjured by Lord Voldemort roared up in a swirling motion that illuminated the small toddler. "_This_ is Neville Longbottom, your Boy Who Lived. Your precious _Chosen One_. Look, and know that he is of no match to _me!_

"I choose you, Neville Longbottom, to be my equal!" cried Lord Voldemort. "Now be marked by the Dark Lord! _MORSEMORDRE!_"

Lord Voldemort hissed those words with a twisting that Harry knew was _not good at all_. The accent was in the wrong places, and the Dark Lord's wand was drawing a rune into the air that was not normally a part of the conjuration of the Dark Mark.

And the results of those alterations became blatantly obvious a moment later.

Instead of the usual sickly green snake and skull smoke, came something completely different from Lord Voldemort's wand. It was a single coiled snake flashing with bright shining silver, twisting as it climbed the night air. The bright-silver snake wriggled and writhed as it approached the still-screeching toddler, Neville.

Then the snake struck, extending its coiled body as two sharp, long teeth sank into the forehead of the baby. Neville screamed, and screamed—it was a sound of pain and misery that only a child could make. The baby writhed in pain as the snake sank its teeth deeper and deeper.

There was bright flash of silver when the full length of the snake's teeth had been buried in the baby's forehead, and to Harry's utter horror, first the nose, then the entire head of the snake began to sink into the forehead of the baby. And Neville screamed. And _screamed_.

Four inches, or less was the length of the snake, and yet it seemed to take _forever_ for the snake to sink completely into the skin. And the whole while Neville was screaming for help, screaming for his mother, who was screaming back.

Then it was done. The snake was gone, sunken completely into the baby's forehead.

And nothing visible remained of the snake except for one single thing: a silver Lightning Bolt—one that looked curiously also like a letter _S_.

"_It is done_," hissed Lord Voldemort, his arms raised up above his head as he laughed with joy. "The Chosen One has been marked!" The Dark Lord turned to Harry with sadistic glee within his eyes. "And now." Lord Voldemort laughed with a high-pitch of insanity. "And_ now, _you are_ dead_, HARRY POTTER!"

Two Death Eaters approached Harry, and at a nod from the Dark Lord, shoved a disgusting tasting liquid down his throat against his weak protestations. _What the fuck are you doing? Ack!_

"You are being fed the _Merde du Diable_, the Devil's Herb, which is perhaps the most potent Aging potion known to wizard-kind, Harry. Absolutely disgusting, is it not? Wonderful! Do drink up!" Lord Voldemort hissed with delight, and paced back and forth before his fire, watching his Death Eaters administer the Aging potion. "Yes, it took some time for my Lestranges to obtain this potion. But my arm is long, and my reach far—nothing is impossible for _me!_"

Then Harry screamed as the potion finally took affect. It felt as though his bones were on fire. His blood boiled within his veins. His heart raced, pumping at a speed that seemed like a million times per second. His magic was hissing with rage. His skin felt tight. His throat scorched with heat. His hair melted. His eyes blurred with agony. His teeth seemed almost ground to dust as he screamed.

And screamed.

And scream—

—the pain disappeared. Harry lay on the floor, gasping from the weakness that flooded inside him, and snarled within his mind, _Fuck you, Riddle!_ He heard someone who sounded like his mother gasp, and several realizations hit him like a ton of bricks.

He had spoken _out loud_.

His voice was that of a matured, _eighteen year old_.

The Devil's Herb had _worked_.

"Welcome back, Harry Potter," laughed Lord Voldemort. "And now it is time for you to finally die."

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**_To be continued…._**

**_Chapter Seven: _The Devil's Herb** _will be updated soon, but reviews help shorten the time. So take the hint and _review!_ A simple, "Wonderful!" or a "Love it!" will do! Even simple messages like that inspire authors to write more!

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**Ending Notes:**

Oh dear. I did it again. Switched the chapter title on you. Now it is **Those Burning Bones**, and there will no longer be a Boy Who Lived chapter at all. The next chapter is called _The Devil's Herb_!

So. Another cliffie. One reviewer mentioned that I ended nearly all of my chapters on a sort of cliffie. wince I did it again. Oops! Please don't kill me! This time it was _completely _unintentional. It just sort of worked out that way, I promise!

Well—_hem, hem_—on to the chapter. Lord Voldemort was hard to write. Hell, Albus Dumbledore was hard to write. Bloody blazing hell, the **_whole chapter_** was hard to write! That's why I'm updating this a day later than I originally planned. The next part, as you can probably tell, will have some real Harry action. The first that I'll ever write for this story (except for the short Prologue scene). I hope I can do you all justice. It will be… as I always like to say… _explosive_.

Anywho, real life is getting a bit hectic. This is the last week of school, and the seniors are graduating, which means lots of work for little ole me, who was unluckily picked as Junior Marshall and Junior class president. So. I get to make a bunch of speeches, pose for pictures, and wish the seniors good riddance. Lol.

Now, on to those flamers. There are one or two. Unfortunately, you flamers seemed to have gotten the wrong impression of Pettigrew's possession. I'd just like to encourage you all to read the end of the second chapter, _Suspicions_. It details what happens to him, and implies the reason for his possession. I won't spoil it for those of you who haven't figured it out yet. But please, no flames--ask nicely, and I'm happy to answer. Most of my reviewers aren't flaming—actually, nearly all are encouraging. Those are nice. I did have one or two that weren't.

Don't get me wrong. I especially love it when someone carefully criticizes my work. It really makes me happy to find that someone cared enough for my story to do this. Just, don't say something like, "I hate this. That was stupid. You are an idiot." Thanks!

Read the "_To be continued…."_ section for the date of the next upload. Happy **_reviewing!_**

Comments always welcome.

_-- liath_

_(5.23.06)

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	9. CH07: 'Tis Midnight, Part I

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_Chapter Seven:_ 'Tis Midnight (Part I)

_by Taliath

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_A/N: This is the first part of the chapter. I'll post the next part tomorrow, once I'm finished with it!

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Harry lay on the sticky wet ground and felt an eternity pass by before him. A thousand threads of thought pulsed from every corner of his mind—but two thoughts remained above them all.

He was eighteen years old again. And he could finally fight.

"Stand up, Potter," called Lord Voldemort. "Stand up and face me like a man, like you did at my resurrection. Ah, yes, you did not think I would remember that?"

Harry blinked away his weariness, burning them away with his Occlumency shields. He needed to focus. To concentrate.

"Will you forever remain shuddering on the ground, boy?" said an amused Dark Lord. "A pity, then—for I had hoped you would provide for me quite an entertainment. Well, will you not stand, yet? Shall I wait some more until you have your fear under control?"

Harry was tired. Yes, it was very true. After all, going from an infant toddler to young adult would cost anyone a hefty bit of their strength—adding that to the fact that Harry had already destroyed thirteen bone fires and fought Lord Voldemort only that morning; it would make anyone shudder with weakness.

But he was ready for situations like these. After all, fighting a constant war in his past had prepared him for moments when he was weakened beyond exhaustion—and so slowly, but surely, he gathered his strength.

_I have no wand_, thought Harry_. I might not be used to controlling my adult body—that'll slow me down._

_And I'm naked._

"Come, Mr. Potter, come! We have but twelve minutes till midnight, and I'm afraid this must end by that time. Now, stand. I have something for you. Stand up, and perhaps I may give it to you. _Stand!_"

Harry tried to subtly wiggle his toes and fingers, trying to get a feel for them. Without a wand, he would be hard pressed to fight, he knew. But wasn't there a Death Eater at the edge of his vision who's wand he could steal?—Yes, there he was perhaps seven feet away, Harry saw when he inconspicuously shifted his eyes quickly in that direction.

"Very well. Another minute I shall give you to recover," spoke Lord Voldemort, disdainfully. "And perhaps during this minute, I may enlighten you as to my reasons for Re-Aging your body. After all, you must be wondering—as must my honored guests, and I would be a poor host to leave you in such confusion."

Another minute? Good. Harry was almost ready.

"You see, Harry, in my future, I feared you," said the Dark Lord. "I hated you. And there was nothing I could do about it. I had made a profound mistake, as I said earlier, by marking you—and it prevented me from taking any sort of harmful action against you. When you became marked as my equal, you fell under a protection of that which I could not break; for you were protected not only by the Prophecy, but by a power greater than that which I could alter."

_Love. The Love Protection. _Voldemort remembered that? But if he remembered that it was the Love Protection that had saved Harry and marked him as the Chosen One, then why did the Dark Lord think he had managed to mark Neville?_ I'm so confused! What the hell is going on?_ By Lord Voldemort's logic, only marking someone through the Love Sacrifice would proclaim the Chosen One. Right?

"I meant to use your death, the death of the Chosen One, to be the last insurance of my immortality. You know of what insurances I speak of, Harry. You have hunted for them—and destroyed most of them in your future. Yes, I remember that well enough."

_He's talking about his Horcruxes. He wanted to use my death to create the last one. The sixth Horcrux, making it a total of seven split souls to insure his immortality—but I know he meant to do that, already. _

"There is a ritual that must be performed, Harry," continued the Dark Lord. "A binding between the object of insurance and the initiator—so that the moment of murder could provide the initiator the split second of time needed to separate his soul. But do you know what happened that night, Harry? Do you know what went wrong? It was something I would never have foreseen—and I believe now that it must have been the Prophecy that had intervened, that had pressed us both in order to fulfill its lines.

"You see, the bind between myself and my object of insurance snapped the very moment I sought to destroy you. I do not pretend to know how this happened, Harry, for I am well aware of my limitations, and I do know that the binding could not have been broken by any ordinary means. It was the Prophecy, Harry Potter; it was Prophecy that had snapped the binding between myself and my object."

Suddenly Lord Voldemort laughed, and for some odd reason, it rang with bitterness. "The irony still gets me, Harry. Oh, the _irony_. When the lines between myself and the object broke, the piece of my soul that had been split apart flowed through the only other remaining connection—the connection between myself and you—through the Killing Curse."

_What?_

"Is that not hilarious, Potter? I sought to destroy you, but instead I empowered you with a piece of myself. I made you my magical heir, and you received my powers. I sought to be rid of my only opponent—and instead I bestowed upon you a protection far greater than any, for I made you one of my six insurances to immortality. Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, _you_ became my sixth Horcrux."

Harry couldn't help himself, he gasped aloud. He still lay on the bloody ground, recovering as much of his strength as he could, and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand.

_I'm a Horcrux. I'm a bloody Horcrux. I have a piece of Lord Voldemort's soul inside of me_. _No wonder we couldn't find the last original one! I am bloody _it!

"Yes, I know how honored you must feel, Harry, to have carried my soul for all these years—but now, it is out of you. It was torn away when you foolishly tried to come back in time—and returned to me."

_That's why he remembers a bit of the future_, Harry's thought darted forward, connecting so many dots that had previously been so disconnected_. Because the piece of his soul within me came back with mine. Oh, Light! I am responsible for all this! It's my fault!_

"Did you not ever wonder why it was that I never sought to destroy you? It was not at all because you were capable of matching my strength and skill. Let us be real, Potter, you were never cunning enough to avoid my grasp, nor quick enough to evade my strikes—no, Harry Potter, you survived because I _could not_ kill you. For, after all, how could I magically kill a part of myself? That is why my first Killing Curse failed, why it rebounded to me, and why you are still alive today."

What was the Dark Lord talking about? He had tried to kill Harry over a thousand times in his past, right? Right? Harry tried immediately to bring up a specific incident, one incident when the Dark Lord attempted to destroy Harry—then remembered. _Yeah, at the Ministry four years ago when I retrieved the Prophecy. He shot the Killing Curse at me_. _And I'm bloody sure it was meant to kill me._

But did the Dark Lord ever try after he learned the Prophecy, two years later? Harry tried to remember—but found himself blank and realized something that horrified him, something that gave credence to Voldemort's words. For Harry realized quite suddenly that after Lord Voldemort had learned the whole Prophecy, he had never once tried to magically kill Harry. Never once.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted when Lord Voldemort continued speaking, his tone cold and wintry. "I could not kill myself, Harry. Not magically. Have you ever seen someone cast the Killing Curse at himself? It rebounds, Harry Potter. It will rebound."

Of course, thought Harry. Of course! That was why he had lived! It was the reason why he had been the only one to survive the Killing Curse!

All of a sudden the Dark Lord's voice grew harder, and harsher. "But _now_, you are no longer protected by either the Prophecy, nor by a piece of my soul. Now, Harry Potter, you are defenseless. And now, I shall finally destroy the nuisance that you are. Stand, former Chosen One."

_I'm as ready as I'll ever be. _Harry tried not to visibly tense as he prepared to spring. _Soon, when Lord Voldemort least expects it. Soon, it will begin. _He kept track of his chosen Death Eater at the edge of his sight.

"Rise, former Boy Who Lived!"

Carefully, ever so carefully, Harry tensed his muscles.

"Face me, Harry James Potter. Stand up, you who was once my equal!"

_As you wish—_

"Stand!_ Stand and face the wrath of Lord Volde—!_"

"NOW!" Harry sprang with a roar, pushing off the ground, and swiftly rolled over to where his target Death Eater stood frozen from the shock of Harry darting so quickly in his direction.

"Curse him, you fool!" cried Lord Voldemort. "Curse him, fools!"

Harry threw out a punch at the Death Eater's stomach before twisting himself around the Death Eater, while holding the man's arms down on his sides, so that he was hidden behind the wizard—just as a barrage of curses exploded into Harry's human shield. The force of the half-dozen spells rocketing into the adult wizard slammed the two of them back a few feet, before Harry was finally able to snatch up the Death Eater's wand. A shield snapped into place within an instant. _Contego!_

Harry allowed his unconscious, captive Death Eater to slump down to the ground with a sneer. _A weak idiot_. The air before him rippled and imploded again and again just mere feet in front of him—but his shield held tentatively against the spells from Death Eaters. Harry gripped the other wizard's wand tightly in his right hand, and for the first time in a long while, he felt powerful again.

_I may not have a million spells at my disposal. I may not have decades of experience. I may not know the finer details of any of the spells I _do _know. But I have power_. _And I know how to use it._

With a wave of his wand, he drew off the robe and cloak of the Death Eater, and covered himself. _Goodness, how fucking weird must it have looked like? A naked teen darting around, attacking a grown man? _

Harry drew in a deep breath, nearly gagging at the repulsiveness that clung to the night air, and gathered himself again.

_It looks like nine Death Eaters are attacking me right now. All of them Inner Circle members. One against nine, plus Voldemort; what are the odds of me winning this?_ None. Absolutely nothing.

_But I will still fight! _

"Lord Voldemort," called Harry gravely, speaking for the very first time. The Death Eaters striking at him fell silent and stilled. As Harry looked at the Dark Lord, he had to force himself not to shudder. _Is it true? Did I really escape from him all these times because he couldn't kill me? Could he really destroy me so easily?_ When Harry continued, he was surprised to find his voice rather calm. "You made a mistake. You never should have given me this chance. You have always underestimated me, and it has always been your gravest mistake."

"Ah! The teen speaks coherently at last!" Lord Voldemort seemed delighted at this fact. "But what is this utter rubbish you speak of, boy? Underestimate you, Potter?" The Dark Lord continued scornfully, "Underestimate, indeed! You make me laugh, Harry, truly you do. I could have killed you a thousand times by now if you had not been protected by my soul. With a single wave of my wand I could have obliterated you beyond death, beyond existence. No, Potter—underestimate? Never that."

"Then why don't you just try to _obliterate_ me now, Riddle?" snarled Harry as he raised his wand up. "What's the use in all this dramatics? You do know you're quite the melodramatic queen, don't you?"

To Harry's complete surprise, the Dark Lord only laughed in response. "Yes, you have always been stubborn. You have always been too sure of yourself, Potter. But the time for jokes are over, now. Why don't I strike you down right this moment, you ask? Allow me to answer." Lord Voldemort lifted up one hand, his right hand, and spread out his hand so that it was visible to all. And there, glittering and reflecting the sickly green light of the fire was the Potter signet ring.

_The ring!_

"Ah, yes," hissed Voldemort coldly. "I see you recognize it. The Potter signet ring, which my dear Wormtail was so kind to retrieve for me. Do you understand now, Harry? Have you realized yet what I mean to do?" The Dark Lord lowered his hand. "No? Shall I enlighten that pathetic mind of yours? Very well. I shall attempt to put it in the most simplest terms so that you can understand." Lord Voldemort paused, and the silence was nearly deafening as everyone waited.

Finally, the Dark Lord spoke, with a soft harshness that made Harry shudder, "At midnight, ten minutes from this moment, I shall strike you down and create my last insurance of immortality." Lord Voldemort stroked the ring with his other hand as he continued. "And this ring, the Potter signet ring, will serve as my last item. Do you understand now, Potter? You will die, oh yes, you will die. But you shall, at the end, be of great service to me. You are no longer protected by the Prophecy, for I have chosen another. You are no longer protected by a piece of my soul, which I have given to another. You are no longer protected by that pathetic residue of your mother's protection—which did not, in fact, reflect the Killing Curse, but merely left me unable to touch you—for she will not die tonight. You have been stripped bare of all your protections, of all your _luck_, of all your power. Tonight, at midnight, I shall obliterate you."

Then the Dark Lord laughed, he threw back his head and began to cackle with delight—he seemed really to get into that laughter of insanity, but Harry interrupted him with a snarl, "Fuck you, Riddle, if you think I'll just let you do that! I'm not quite as powerless as you think, you know. And no matter what you say, you have always underestimated me, and it will be your downfall."

Harry stood tall and glared defiantly at Lord Voldemort, and ruthlessly suppressed all the despair that was welling up within him. _Light, could he be right? Am I so bereft of all my protections? Could he really crush me so easily? Enough! Don't think! Not now!_

But the Dark Lord merely hissed with amusement. "Indeed, you are correct, Potter. You are not so powerless. That is why I have decided to give you one chance. One chance to escape. After all, you have done me great service in coming back to the past."

_What?_

Lord Voldemort drew something that looked like a wand out of his pocket, and tossed it at Harry, who raised his stolen wand to defend himself against any surprises. The thrown wand bounced off his shield and clattered to the ground, catching the light as it did—and Harry couldn't help but gasp as he recognized the wand. _My wand!_

"Eleven inches," said the Dark Lord, "holly, and Phoenix feather, supple. Your wand, Potter, brother to my own."

Harry could hardly believe it as he summoned his wand, and felt the familiar feeling of power rushing through him as his hand wrapped around it. _My wand, and it still responds to me! I thought this wand chose me because I had a connection to Voldemort, but looks like I deserve it regardless_. A fear that he never knew he had possessed vanished, and he realized for the first conscious time that he had, indeed, been always afraid that his wand had only chosen him because of his scar. But it was not the case, apparently. _My wand!_

"One chance, Potter, to save yourself. You have nine minutes to fight your way out. I shall not interfere. Nine of my best Death Eaters shall duel with you, boy. You defeat all nine of them, and I shall consider sparing your life."

What in the world? Why was Voldemort doing this? Harry couldn't help but narrow his eyes with suspicion. What could the Dark Lord possibly gain from this?

"You are suspicious, Harry. Good," called Lord Voldemort. "You wonder why I am allowing you this chance. Perhaps it is because I am in need of some entertainment. After all, since you ruined my earlier one by destroying my bone fires, is it not right that you should substitute? Well? Time is moving forth, Potter. You have less than nine minutes. Begin soon." The Dark Lord gestured, and nine Inner Circle members approached and entered the clearing. "Whenever you're ready, Potter, it shall begin."

_Something is not right about this_, Harry thought with a frown. _Something is off. _Well, if he thought about it, everything about this night was off. Why was Voldemort doing this? It just didn't make any sense. He carefully eyed the approaching Death Eaters and raised both his wands up in a defensive position. _Good thing I have my old wand back. I hope I can still use two wands as I used to be able to do_. _These guys look serious_.

With a sigh, Harry shrugged mentally. There wasn't anything he could particularly do at this moment. He certainly didn't trust the Dark Lord to keep his word. _Maybe he just wants to know how well I fight. He probably doesn't remember that much about my fighting skills. Yeah, maybe that's why_. Still, if he didn't act now, it looked like the Death Eaters would start it for him.

_So, what's the chance of me actually winning this? _thought Harry as he carefully watched the Death Eaters spread out into a semicircle in front of him. _Most likely none. Oh well, it's not like I've ever actually had better odds when fighting Voldemort's minions. I've always been outnumbered and stuck in impossible situations—how different is this? I have always survived._

And so with this rather depressing, yet not-so-depressing thought, Harry cast his very first offensive spell. _Here we go!_

The ground beneath three Death Eater's exploded, and Harry twisted away, allowing his shield to drop as a half-dozen spells hurdled his way—and watched coolly as they sped right by him. _Abeo Flamma! _

A whipping cord of flames burst out from the tip of Harry's stolen wand, just as he focused and cast another explosion spell with his other wand. The cord of fire whirling out from his stolen wand snapped around him in a protective spiral that deflected the next barrage of enemy spells, whipping them away as he slashed his wand, and with a jerk of his own wand he shot out another explosion hex that made two Death Eaters stumble and trip. He shifted away again, allowing other spells to fly past him.

When the ground where he had stood just a split second before exploded up in a fountain of blood and hardened dirt, Harry swung both his wands, his magic flinging out before him as he _pushed_ the fountain of grit away and allowed it to slam into another Death Eater, who just barely managed to summon a shield—even as Harry ducked low to the ground and spun around, a shield snapping into place just before a red ball crashed into it an inch before Harry's eyes. _Ahh!_ Both shield and spell crumbled away as Harry jumped and whirled once more, blinking away the harsh red glare from that offensive spell.

_Constant movement, Potter, goes with constant vigilance!_ Moody's voice growled in his ears. _You very well can't hit someone who's too fast for yeh'!_

Harry jerked his own wand just as he saw the first Unforgivable cast within this skirmish, and barely managed to drop and roll away as the green flash of light sped over him. _Pulsus flamma!_ A ball of green fire exploded from the tip of his other wand, and Harry managed to hit Lucius Malfoy—before he had to dart away hastily to avoid an Acid-Blood Hex from a Death Eater who looked like Yaxley, flicking his own wand as he deflected another curse from one of the Lestrange brothers.

_Voldemort really isn't attacking! That's a surprise!_

There was a roar from the side, and Harry's eyes widened as lightning shot out from another Death Eater's wand—Rookwood's, it looked like—and grit his teeth as he was hit on his left shoulder, the imploding force spinning him through the air and landing him unsteadily on the ground. _Too fast!_ thought Harry as he jumped up, barely avoiding a Cold-Tears Curse that splattered the ground behind him with a disgusting yellow substance—wincing as his shoulder throbbed in vengeance to his sharp moves.

_Light help me, I'm tired! _Breathing heavily, Harry dropped low to the ground again as more curses sped his way, and desperately rolled on the bloody street to avoid more.

_Ilierla Skeliwma dei Renwe!_

A purple net flowed out from the end of his wand with an opening of about two feet wide, and Harry very nearly grinned. _Nicholas loved this spell. I'm glad he taught me, now!_ Quickly swinging his wand around him, the net following his wand's movement, Harry managed to sweep up most of the curses headed his way—his other wand deflecting the ones that didn't get swept up by the net—and twisted his first wand with a gesture that tightened the opening of the net.

_Release!_ Harry commanded within his mind, just as he flicked his wand and tossed the bundled-up spells in Yaxley's direction. _Get rid of the most powerful first! And he's it!_

But to Harry's surprise, Yaxley verbally spoke a spell whose words themselves rang with deep underlying power, and the net exploded in a firestorm of red and yellow, a chaotic mess of colored power that blasted out a shockwave, flattening everyone within a fifteen feet radius. _Fuck!_

Harry darted back onto his feet with a defense net coiling around him—

—and roared with pain as all of his muscles suddenly cramped at once. A spell had gone right _through_ his defense net! The loss of control over his body made him slump quite suddenly to the ground, his eyes shut tightly with pain. _Oh light, light, oh Merlin!_ His wands clattered uselessly on the floor as his muscles seized up once more. _Blast it!_

"Interesting," said Lord Voldemort coldly as he stepped in. He flicked his wand in Harry's direction—and Harry bit in a whimper of pain as the Dark Lord's magic formed teeth and claws that tore his net apart. "You astound me, Harry Potter, with your dueling skills. I must admit, they are beyond what I would have been capable of at your age." The Dark Lord kept his wand trained on Harry, and Harry fought desperately against screaming out in agony as his muscles continued to cramp and contract even more.

"However, you lack my edge, a ruthlessness that prevents you from outright defeating your opponents as I could have done." Harry couldn't help it; he began to thrash on the ground as his muscles continued to convulse and cramp up, writhing on the ground in excruciating pain. "Your magic is loosely controlled, and you do not utilize your full strength. In all honesty, I am disappointed with these blatant holes in your training—what has dear Dumbledore been doing? Why has he not instructed you any better?"

Lord Voldemort suddenly jerked his wand, and Harry was swiftly lifted up, hanging five feet above the ground, before the Dark Lord's magic wound tight around him and crushed his body _inwards_. "Strength and power, Harry Potter. Even unmarked you are nearly as powerful as I, and yet you will _never_ defeat me. Do you know why, Harry? Do you want to know? I shall tell you. It is because you fight like a poor pitiful fool, striking with only Light magic—which pales in comparison to the power of the Dark! You are woefully ignorant of the true—"

"Save your breath, Riddle!" spat Harry through gritted teeth, his eyes nearly rolling with pain as agony continued to spike through his body. Was it just his imagination, or was his vision getting darker and darker, fading in and out? "I've… heard it all from you b-before!" Harry groaned as his body convulsed again.

The Dark Lord stepped forward, nearing where Harry lay prone, suspended above the ground. "Harry, Harry, _Harry_, of course you've heard it all. Haven't we all?" replied Lord Voldemort, his voice silky. "But you did not listen when I spoke before, did you? No, you did not, and you do not now—why is that? Allow me to guess, it was and is because I killed your parents, is it not?"

Panic gripped Harry's heart. "Don't you _dare_ t-touch t-them!" He mangled the last words as his body quivered again in sharp excruciating torture at a jerk from Lord Voldemort's wand.

"Oh?" Lord Voldemort swung his wand out abruptly, and two figures were suddenly drawn into the clearing. "And if I were to spare them now, would you willingly submit to me? Ponder this, Potter: had I not killed your parents, would you have been more willing to listen to me? It is an interesting question, and I am truly interested in the answer. However, I know you have no intention of answering it—but I see the truth. It is ever so clear in your magic, your actions, your _soul_.

"You are powerful, Harry, and I know exactly the allure of the power of the Dark. You feel it too, do you not? You fought a war in your past, Potter, you fought a confrontation that spilled so much blood—did you not feel the call of the wild Darkness grip at you?" Lord Voldemort paused, before continuing once more. "Your parents, Harry. James and Lily Potter."

James and Lily were on the ground, bound by magic, and Lord Voldemort lifted a foot, pushing Lily until she lay on her back. Harry watched with agony-filled eyes as Lord Voldemort bent down and slowly caressed his mother's cheek. "Such a pity your mother is a Mudblood."

"_Get your fucking hands of her—_AHH!" Harry screamed as Lord Voldemort's wand was suddenly pointed in his direction again.

"Harry, Harry, _Harry_," he heard when the pain ended, the Dark Lord's condescending voice making him want to throw up in disgust. "You really must watch that filthy mouth of yours. Did your mother never tell you how vulgar and disgusting it is to be swearing so? Oh, dear me, I forgot; you had no parents." Harry grit his teeth in anger, and tried to ignore the pain shooting down his spine. _You fucking did not forget, you bastard! _"You interest me, Harry. Truly, I am fascinated by you. You are a powerful wizard, and you have determination. I wonder, Potter, if our circumstances had been different, would you have rejected the Dark so easily? Had I not killed your parents, would you have joined me? It is an interesting thought, is it not?"

Lord Voldemort was silent for a second, before nodding as though he had decided something. "Consider this, Potter. I shall offer you a place at my side, your life safe from death, and also the lives of your parents—_if_, and only if, you join me. Consider well, Potter. There is really no need for us to be fighting one another. It was the cursed Prophecy that brought us into conflict. Now we all have a second chance to make things different. Join me, Potter, what say you?"

Harry took a deep breath, and answered without even considering what the Dark Lord had to offer, "You can just go fuck yourself, Riddle. I'll never even _consider_ joining you!"

"Will you truly not consider?" spoke Lord Voldemort both urgently and passionately. "After all, I am offering you something beyond what you could ever have _hoped_ for! I am offering you power beyond your imaginations, the keys to the hidden doorways of magic! I am willing to spare your life—in fact, I am giving you the chance to live out the rest of your life without undue fear of me! I am allowing you the opportunity to get to know your parents. Does _that_ not sound appealing? Join me, Harry Potter. Simply say the word, bend one knee, and you will be free." Lord Voldemort lowered his wand, and all the pain that had been throbbing within Harry's body sunk away and disappeared. "You must give me your answer now, Harry. Will you bend one knee, and live?"

Harry shook his head slowly in disbelief. "You bloody _killed_ my parents, murdered all my friends, destroyed any chance of a happy future for me, and now you've slaughtered Muggle-borns, threatened to obliterate me at midnight, and suddenly you want me to _join_ you? You really are fucking crazy, you know—_AHH!_" He screamed as the Dark Lord pointed his wand at Harry again. When he could finally think past the pain, he spoke raggedly, "You really are pathetic, you know that? You are fucking _pathetic_, Riddle!"

"_Crucio!_" hissed Lord Voldemort coldly. "I shall not be spoken to in such a way, Potter. I will not stand for it! _Crucio!_"

Pain. Utter pain. Absolute agony.

_Hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt!_

_Oh Merlin, Light, help, help, help, pain, no, help, please, fuck, fuck, fuck!_

"Scream, Potter! _Scream!_"

_Stop, light, stop, hurt, pain, stop, stop, please, stop_—

"STOP!" cried a voice, and it took Harry a full second to realize that it wasn't his own, though it was very similar. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The Cruciatus was lifted, and Harry shuddered weakly as he lay suspended in the air, drifting in and out of consciousness. _I hurt so much. I hate the Cruciatus. I absolutely hate it. I hate it. I hate him. I _hate_ him_. It took another moment before Harry realized that his mantra had changed from hating the spell to hating him, Lord Voldemort. But it was very true. _I hate Lord Voldemort. I_ hate_ him! I'm gonna fucking _kill_ him!_

Then it seemed like a veil clouding his vision was torn away, and reality once more came crashing into focus. His senses reeled as he was so harshly brought back to the present, and as he lay gasping with his eyes shut tightly in the after-effects of the Cruciatus, he heard and felt hope.

"—away from my son, Voldemort!"

"James Potter, you _dare_ to cast the Killing Curse at me, fool!"

Harry forced open his eyes, struggling against the weariness that tried to claim him, and looked at the scene before him. James, his father, had both of Harry's wands in his hands, standing in a defense position in front of his son. _He must have picked up the wands from the ground where I dropped it. How did he get loose from the bindings, though?_

"Release him, Dark Lord! Release him!" snarled James, his wands held steadily before him. "I'm warning you, let him—"

"_Silence, fool!_ Do you really think you are a match for me? For any of my Death Eaters?" hissed Lord Voldemort harshly. "Speak again, James Potter, and I shall kill you myself. You are only alive because of Potter, there. But speak again, one more word, and I shall destroy you!"

_I need my wand. I can release myself if I have my wand_. _Can I summon it, like I did with mum's?_ Well, he had to try. Harry focused, reaching into his magic, and called out, _Come to me! _Accio_ wand!_

Harry heard his father's breath catch as the wand tore out from his wand into Harry's. _Relashio Debloria!_ Harry called in his mind, and felt relief as the binding keeping him suspended began to unravel. _Light, I probably should have just summoned a wand to me in the first place, instead of jumping a Death Eater a while ago!_

He dropped to the ground and rolled as he impacted, simultaneously crying within his mind, _Contego!_ A blue shield wrapped around him and his father just as a spell from Voldemort hammered at them. Harry grunted at the impact, and quickly summoned another shield when his first one shattered to dust.

"I see," hissed Lord Voldemort coldly. "So be it. You have just rejected my last offer, and now you will die. You have six minutes to play, Potters. Six minutes till midnight before I kill you, Harry." The Dark Lord gestured to his Death Eaters. "Kill the elder one, however no one but I have the right to kill the younger. Keep that in mind. _Begin!_"

Harry watched out the corner of his eyes as James spurred into motion and began shooting spells from the wand that Harry had stolen, obviously his Auror-training kicking in. Two Death Eaters were quickly brought down before they could defend themselves, and Harry maintained their shield as other Death Eaters began to strike back.

_Mum, she needs to be protected! _thought Harry was he focused on keeping the shield in place. Indeed, his mother was passed out on the ground, just outside Harry's shield. "Dad, protect mum!" Harry saw James grunt in answer and move towards Lily, a shield springing up around her. _Good, now I can attack!_

_Abeo Flamma!_ Again a whipping cord of flames spun out from his wand, and Harry laughed as he lashed out and wrapped the flames around a single Death Eater. _Flammeo Maxima!_ The whip exploded out in white fire, and the Death Eater screamed a split second before he was turned to dust. _Take that, you fucker!_

A movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Harry's eyes widened at the Dark spell headed his way—the Blind-Eye Curse! He knew he didn't have time to avoid it. Blast, what was the counter? The counter? An instant before it hit, Harry remembered, and he yelled out loud in his panic, "_Lumos Solarum!_" A beam of focused light broke apart the curse, and Harry sighed in relief even as he jumped away from another curse, summoning a shield as he shifted over.

Briefly he caught sight of his father, dueling with another Death Eater, but only for an instant before Harry was rolling again on the ground to avoid more. _We're really in trouble. Even with the two of us we'll be hard pressed to defend ourselves, and also attack!_ They needed help, badly.

A powerful explosion erupted right next to Harry, and the recoil of power blew him off his feet, landing him painfully on his arse. _Ouch!_ Rolling quickly away, Harry jumped back onto his feet just as another powerful explosion erupted right in front of him, blowing him off his feet again. _Fuck!_ Instead of attempting to stand again, Harry swung his wand out in a wide circular arc, focusing on his magic, and grunted as he deflected a dozen spells spiraling towards him. _Aeris Ventus!_

Torrents of air blasted out around him, and Harry quickly sprang up while the Death Eaters were distracted by the fists of air punching out at them. _Avis!_ Birds of all sizes exploded out from the tip of Harry's wand, spiraling in circles around him, providing both cover and obstruction from enemy spells.

"Harry!" yelled his father, and Harry spun around just to see three Death Eaters converge on his parents—and James had lost his wand. _No!_ With a silent roar he burst into action, flinging out his power as he struck one of the Death Eaters. _Devie Kinestasia!_ The Death Eater screamed as he was launched forty feet into the air, and Harry snarled at the other two. _Poena Vulnero! _The Heart-Fire curse slammed into one, and Harry quickly summoned the Death Eater's wand, tossing it immediately to James so that his father could deal with the last Death Eater, and cast another spell simultaneously. _Tego Texi Tectum!_ A web of golden light spun out from his wand, coiling and cocooning around his parents. The Golden Shield wrapped them both up in a powerful protective bubble, and Harry sighed. They would be safe.

"Watch out!" screamed a witch from outside the clearing, and Harry whipped around to find a cord of flames spin around him. _Bloody hell! _His thoughts spinning around him, he quickly pointed to himself and shouted within his mind. _Impertio Pluvia!_ Every inch of himself was abruptly soaked with water, and he sighed with relief when the tongue of flames did not burn him as it wrapped around him tightly. _Now how in the blazes do I get out?_

Harry groaned as the flames got fiercer and fiercer, keeping his arms tightly immobile, and fought to keep his Water-Immersion spell up. _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ Suddenly the flames disappeared, and he immediately dropped low to the ground, and swung around to see that James had been the one to dispel the cord of flames.

A wave of Harry's wand instantly dried his wet clothes and his body, and he wearily twisted around once more. His breathing was harsh and erratic as he was forced to dodge more incoming spells. _We need help! I need help!_ Harry hissed in pain as he hastily dropped and rolled away, accidentally putting pressure on his lightning-burned shoulder, which shot spikes of agony into his brain in protest.

_BANG!_

The Golden Shield _exploded_ out as it failed, and Harry was bodily lifted off his feet as the Golden Shield collapsed. _No!_ Harry tried to climb back onto his feet, the action surprisingly difficult, and tiredly tried to call up another defense net around his parents. _Light, someone, help us! _They needed help! He wouldn't be able to take much more. He was too weak, too tired. _Merlin, save us_—

—and Harry's silent call for help was answered.

"THIS IS THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC," boomed a powerful voice. "YOU HAVE BEEN SURROUNDED. DROP YOUR WANDS AND PLACE YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD. ALL CIVILIANS ARE REQUESTED TO REMAIN AS FLAT AS POSSIBLE ON THE GROUND SO AS TO AVOID BEING CAUGHT IN ANY POSSIBLE CROSSFIRE."

_What?_

A powerful spell tore at Harry's face, and he barely managed to slap it away, diving as the Death Eaters around him continued their dual. Desperately Harry tried to regain his focus and concentration as he twisted away from spells coming in multiple directions—but he was too off balance now. _The Ministry of Magic's finally arrived? Took them long enough!_

Indeed, as Harry managed to take quick glances at the edge of the Shield of _Scathach_, he saw dozens of red-robed Aurors amassing, and several dozen flying above on broomsticks, though none dared to cross the invisible air boundary of the Shield of _Scathach_.

"I REPEAT. THIS IS THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. YOU HAVE BEEN SURROUNDED. DROP YOUR WANDS AND PLACE YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD. ALL CIVILIANS ARE HEREBY REQUESTED TO REMAIN AS FLAT AS POSSIBLE ON THE GROUND SO AS TO AVOID BEING CAUGHT IN ANY CROSSFIRE."

Harry grinned.

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**_To be continued…._**

**_Chapter Seven: _'Tis Midnight (Part II)** _will be updated soon, but reviews help shorten the time. So take the hint and _review!_ A simple, "Wonderful!" or a "Love it!" will do! Even simple messages like that inspire authors to write more!

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**Ending Notes:**

So. It's minutes to midnight. The Ministry of Magic has finally arrived. Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall have yet to fully sort out their differences. Voldemort has yet to kill Harry. Possessed!Peter has yet to make an appearance. Snape hasn't been hung as a traitor. What in the world will happen in the second part? You'll find out soon!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The fight scenes were a bit short, I know, and I feel there was a bit too much talking on LV's part—but read his words carefully. Though his words are arrogant and condescending, they are essential to my plot. In any case, this chapter was a bit hard to write—and I hope I've met your expectations!

It's been almost three weeks since I've updated, I know. But if you've read my LJ, you'd know why. My parents had signed me up for this intensive SAT study program, and that basically ruled my life for a couple of weeks. And as I've mentioned before, graduation and exams took care of the rest. But I'm more free now, so I finally got up to finishing the first part, and nearly all the second part. Hoping to update that tomorrow!

A massive big thanks to everyone who reviewed! It was the reviews of the last ten or so people that got my fingers moving to finish this chapter. Before that, I was lazing off trying to enjoy my summer. But I've finally decided to do something worthwhile, instead of being lazy and procrastinating, because of those last dozen or so reviewers! My thanks to you all! This chapter is most definitely dedicated to all of you!

Part Two of **'Tis Midnight** will finish this arc of action. Then the cliffhangers will end, and you will have two or three calm chapters, filler chapters that simply move the plot along. And finally, finally, the story can move on from Halloween!

Read the "_To be continued…."_ section for the date of the next upload. Happy **_reviewing!_**

Comments always welcome.

_-- liath_

_(6.19.06)

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	10. CH07: 'Tis Midnight, Part II

**ATTENTION--NOT A NEW CHAPTER:** I made a mistake, everyone! It wasn't a new chapter! Sorry! I was simply changing old chapters for revised ones, but messed up in the process! Sorry again for the false alert! However, I do have half of the next chapter posted on my LJ. Sorry again, really!

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_Chapter Seven:_ 'Tis Midnight (Part II)

_by Taliath

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_A/N: This is the second part of the chapter. The climax of this particular arc of action. The resolution will span about two chapters.

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Minerva looked up at the Headmaster with a frown. "What do you mean 'upper hand of knowledge?'"

"Exactly that, Minerva," replied Albus. "The Ministry has had several hours to prepare for the eventual invoking of the Shield of Scathach. Plans have been drawn, and every detail has been taken into account."

"Every detail?" asked Minerva, her eyes narrowing as suspicions began to form within her mind. "Albus, don't tell me you _knew_ the Potters and the Longbottoms were going to be kidnapped before it happened?"

The Headmaster pinned her with his eyes, an intensity within them that captured and held Minerva's. "Not only them, Minerva, but also Minister Bagnold, several Heads of Ministry Departments, a few prominent Wizengamot members, a handful from the International Confederation of Magical Beings, and even a group of Muggle government officials."

Shock was all Minerva could feel, her eyes getting wider and wider with every word; at the end she could only stare at Albus in complete disbelief. How? How could this have happened?She did not know the situation had been so serious. Merlin, even Muggles had been kidnapped! Muggles! And why would Lord Voldemort do this? What was the point? Did he really want the wizarding world to clash with the Muggles? That would be absolutely disastrous!

_Wait_. Minerva's thoughts froze as another suspicion welled up. _No. No. Albus, please no. Don't tell me you—you—_. She could not form her words. "Surely you did not—surely…" Minerva took a deep breath, then forced herself to ask, "Surely you did not allow the Halloween Festival at Diagon Alley to continue? _Surely_ you had the event cancelled!"

When the Headmaster did not speak, her suspicions were confirmed. He had not cancelled the event. He had allowed it to continue, _knowing _that the Shield of Scathach was going to be invoked. Not only that, but he had also known the Potters would be kidnapped, and done nothing about it. He had known the Longbottoms would be kidnapped, and done _nothing_ about it. He had _allowed_ the Dark Lord to get his hands on them. And he had allowed _Muggles_ to get involved as well. Minerva stood up slowly, her eyes boring into Albus's, and spoke with a vehement whisper, "Albus, _what have you done?_"

Albus spoke after a moment, with a soft tone and regret in his eyes. "Minerva, there was no other way. I am horrified by what I had to do, but you must understand—it was truly the only option. This was the perfect opportunity for a trap; to get capture and weaken of Lord Voldemort's support, to perhaps show us all who our Chosen One is. Understand this, if there had been another viable possibility, I would have chosen it. You must believe me, Minerva."

"I _cannot_ believe I am listening to this," said Minerva. "What did you do, Albus? What have you done?" When the Headmaster did not speak, Minerva snarled, "_What have you done?_"

"There is no need for you to take that tone with me, Minerva," said Albus, his voice suddenly hard and rather cool. "There are times when situations force our hand, force us to make decisions that we otherwise would not have made. This was such a case. We are at war, Minerva, at war. Do not question me in such a way. I have done my best."

"Tell me, then, _tell me_," said Minerva coldly, her eyes narrowed and her voice just as hard. "All I understand at this moment is that you knew Lord Voldemort would invoke the Shield of Scathach in Diagon Alley and you failed to cancel the event; that you knew the Dark Lord would kidnap a whole host of people and you allowed it to occur; that you will allow Lord Voldemort to attempt murder on a child in hopes that the Chosen One will be marked. Is any of this wrong, Albus? Please, do tell me I'm wrong! Because I dearly hope that I am on all three counts—but that is not the case, is it? _Is it?_"

"I never knew you thought so lowly of me, Minerva," said Albus sadly, his blue eyes grave. "Alas, I would never have imagined that you would actually believe me capable of such acts. I admit I am hurt by your—"

"Enough, Albus," said Minerva softly. "Please, enough with the lies, enough with your false patronising words. Just tell me the truth—not as you would sugar-coat it with others. You and I have known each other for the better of sixty years now. Tell me the _truth_, Albus Dumbledore, friend. _What have you done?_"

There a moment of silence, wherein both were staring into each others' eyes, a wordless battle of wills between two leaders—and finally Albus Dumbledore spoke. "Doppelgangers, Minerva. Minister Bagnold and a few others I was sure would be targeted have been relocated to safety, and their Polyjuiced doppelgangers were placed in visible locations. Of course, Nicolas and I were not sure of all who Voldemort would try to kidnap, yet we were sure of a handful, and they have all been doubled."

"And the Potters? The Longbottoms?"

"It was a tremendously difficult decision; you must acknowledge that, Minerva—yet I had to make it. The Potters and the Longbottoms were not doubled in my hopes that Lord Voldemort would mark his equal."

"I see," said Minerva sadly. _You are just as manipulative as I remember, old friend._ "And the Diagon Alley Halloween Festival? What about that? Did you really not warn anyone? Have you no protection for them?" _Merlin, four of my students are attending the Festival. Four!—and probably another fifteen or so combined from the other Houses!_

"Minerva, if the Ministry tried to tighten too much of its security, Lord Voldemort would have been suspicious, and thus more careful. We needed to lull him into a false sense of security that we were still blind to his upcoming strike during the Festival. Surely you see and understand that, my dear."

"So," said Minerva slowly. "You are telling me you did nothing? _Nothing?_"

"Yes," said Albus gently, "I was forced to do nothing, Minerva. And for that, I am very sorry. More sorry than even you might realise."

_Merlin!_ thought Minerva with dread. _My students… who were they? Alex? Yes, Alex Smith, a Muggle-born fifth-year. Patricia Stones, a pure-blood seventh-year. And two others… Merlin protect them!_

When she spoke again, she found that her voice had a rather rough quality to it: "And what, Albus Dumbledore, is your plan now? I assume you have a plan to get around the Shield of Scathach?" Her students. Alex, Patricia… Ted! Yes, Ted Allen. And Spinnet, Oliver Spinnet. _Please, be safe!_

"Yes, an ingenious one, if I do say so myself," replied the Headmaster, as he reached for another sweet.

"And that would involve what, exactly?"

"Tunnels," said Albus pleasantly. "Tunnels dug beneath the surface, beneath Diagon Alley. The Shield of Scathach is truly a powerful ward against any and all intrusions from almost all directions—_almost_ all. The lines of fire prevent any direct strike from both ground and sky—but from beneath… from beneath there is no defence."

"And how do you think you'll manage that without alerting Lord Voldemort? The Shield detects any magic cast within its perimeter—and would surely detect anything below or above."

"That is the beauty of it, my dear Minerva. I strictly forbade any use of magic to dig out the tunnel—in fact, I have even asked that all workers be stripped of their wands. Indeed, every inch of dirt is being removed through Muggle means. Why do you think I am sitting here with you for so long? I am patiently waiting for confirmation that the tunnel has been extended far enough below the street."

"But that would hardly be enough, Albus! There are the lines of fire themselves to consider—even if you come at them from the ground, Lord Voldemort could easily command the lines to shift and ensnare those who come out from the tunnel opening. Surely you know this!"

"Of course, of course. However, I believe I have that covered. Not to worry—"

"How could I _not_ worry, Albus, with you making decisions such as these without consultation? I thought you trusted me enough to have informed me earlier of the situation!"

"I thought about informing you, Minerva. It concerned me most greatly that I had to conceal this from you and the Order. Yet I had heard of your injuries and did not wish to disturb your rest—"

"That is _absolutely_ absurd, Albus! Perhaps such an argument would have worked if you had been dealing with a smaller issue—yet with something this big, this vast in scale—no! No! I cannot accept such rubbish coming from you, Headmaster! Why did you not call on me? Why did you make such decisions without even informing the Order? Without informing me? Do you really not trust us so?"

"Of course I trust you, Minerva, I trust you most dearly. Never doubt that. I truly did not wish aggravate you. I thought perhaps that—"

"Why is it then that I find your words so hard to believe? No matter what you say, it is your actions that tell the true story, Albus. And what I see right now, what I know of your actions tonight—no, I cannot believe you."

"Minerva—"

"_No_, Albus, do you not understand? Can you not see it? Have you already lost perspective? Take a step back and look at what you've done tonight with an objective eye, Headmaster! Look closely! Compare what you've done tonight with what you would have done even a decade ago. Albus, _you tried to bind me!_ You allowed Lord Voldemort to get his hands on children! You—"

Suddenly the fire glowing in the Headmaster's hearth roared up in the greenish glare of the Floo, cutting off Minerva's words, and a weary-looking, dirt-stained face appeared—it was Barty Crouch. "Dumbledore! It's done! The—" the man glanced suspiciously at Minerva "—the tunnels have been dug completely. We are set and ready."

Albus stood swiftly. "That is excellent news, Barty. And what of Lord Voldemort? What has happened so far?"

"It's not a pleasant sight," sighed Crouch. "From our doppelgangers we've learned that there's been already a massacre of Muggle-borns—something to do with bone fires or some such nonsense. And… and something with Harry Potter and some prophecy." Crouch shook his head with a puzzled expression on his face. "It's all very confusing. I've heard reports about You-Know-Who going on and on about some future and time-travelling? Yes, I know—I can hardly believe it myself, but there it is. Ah, and Neville Longbottom was marked with a silver snake—sources claim You-Know-Who was saying something about a 'Chosen One' or some such."

Minerva felt like she was drowning in her shock. It was as though she had just cast a spell way beyond her control and ability, and was struggling to pull free from its overwhelming backlash. Crouch's report flowed over her, and it felt like every other word from his mouth brought another shock with it. _Massacre, bone fires, Harry Potter, prophecy, future, time-travelling, Neville Longbottom marked, Chosen One… Merlin!_

Crouch hesitated. "And Harry Potter was fed something called the Devil's Herb. Made him grow up, age up. Then apparently he duelled with a dozen or so Death Eaters—not to mention that James Potter also managed to steal a wand and joined in the fight."

"I… see," said Albus. He seemed completely stunned—but Minerva could hardly blame him. She herself could hardly breathe through her disbelief. _Devil's Herb! Harry's grown up! Merlin!_

"Yes, I know it's surprising—and I'm sure no one over on this side understands it any better, but we need to hurry, Dumbledore," said Crouch through the Floo.

"Of course, of course," said Albus after a moment. "Yes, we must move quickly. I shall be there in a moment, Barty."

Crouch nodded, then disappeared.

_Well_, thought Minerva_, the situation's just become exponentially complicated_. Of course, with Harry Potter involved, she really should have expected the unexpected.

"Minerva, look at me," said Albus. "Lord Voldemort must be stopped. He has caused too much destruction as it is."

"Destruction _you_ _allowed to happen_," retorted Minerva. She drew in a deep breath, her wand in her hand. "But you are right. We must move now, first. And later, then, we must continue our _discussion_, Albus."

"Alas, I must say no," replied the Headmaster—and suddenly his wand was pointed right at her.

_What—_? Minerva's wand exploded out from her hand, and a force of air _slammed_ her back and against the wall. A Silencing Charm prevented her scream from being heard.

"I'm truly sorry, Minerva. I never expected our discussion to turn into this—and I find the results less than satisfactory. I had thought you would see reason if I could just explain fully the situation to you, but I now realise my belief in such was rather trusting and false. I am, I admit, most disappointed by your irrationality and inability to see the bigger picture. Sacrifices, my dear, must be made for the greater good, for the triumph of the Light. I am saddened that you are incapable of accepting this universal fact."

_How _dare_ you? _Minerva snarled wordlessly and felt her magic boil with cold rage. _You have no right to demand such sacrifices from others! _Her magic came rushing up through her with revenge, gathering its strength just beneath the spell holding her against the wall, preparing to strike out against the man she had once considered her greatest friend—

"I'm sorry again, Minerva, but you have forced my hand. _Obli_—"

She screamed as her magic _exploded_ out through her every pore—

"—_viate!_"

—her magic lashed out at the spell keeping her against the wall—

—a spear-shaped violent, crushing force pierced through the nearly-impenetrable physical manifestation of her magic—

—and the world turned black; Minerva knew no more.

* * *

"THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING: YOU HAVE BEEN SURROUNDED. DROP YOUR WANDS AND PLACE YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD. ALL CIVILIANS—" 

"Enough," called Lord Voldemort coldly, and the Death Eaters froze. The Dark Lord dismissed Harry and his father contemptuously, turning around to face the speaker who was standing at the end of the street with a wand to his own throat. It was Bartemius Crouch, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Barty Crouch Senior, if I am not mistaken," the Dark Lord's voice rang with scorn and power, easily audible everywhere. "What brings you here so late?"

"_You have been surrounded!_" thundered Crouch, though not as loudly as his first statements. "_Drop your wand and submit to the authority of the Ministry of Magic. All Death Eaters are hereby demanded by the Ministry to lower your wands and submit to the authority of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I repeat, you—_"

"Do _shut up_," said the Dark Lord harshly, his voice wintry. "Your arrogance appalls me, Crouch. You and your Ministry are nothing but cowards. You hide yourselves when the true damage is being done—you bury yourselves in fear when my bone fires are ravaging through the Muggle-borns your Ministry was sworn to protect. And now you arrive hours late and demand that I surrender? You bring in your Aurors now that the fighting is nearly done, hoping to perhaps make it seem as though you were doing something. Pathetic, really—but what can you do about it?"

"_Lower this Shield of Scathach!_" roared Crouch. "_Else you will be subjected to the mercies of_—"

"Useless words, Crouch," hissed Lord Voldemort coldly. "What you speak is of nothing but words. You have neither the power nor the might to enforce your pathetic threats."

"_You have one last chance! Lower the Shield, or it will be lowered by the Ministry of Magic!_"

The Dark Lord roared with laughter. "'_Or it will be lowered by the Ministry of Magic?_'" repeated Lord Voldemort contemptuously. "Dismal; absolutely dismal, Crouch. You threaten to lower this Shield of mine as though you were about talking about some flimsy ward conjured by one of your worthless Aurors." Lord Voldemort shook his head. "You have obviously done some research to understand that this is indeed the Shield of Scathach. Yet you have forgotten the obvious: this is a Shield conjured by the very blood of those you failed to protect, and is quite impossible to break without my approval. Is it not ironic that your failure now protects me so absolutely? Well, no matter. You cannot think to hope you shall ever pass the Shield."

"Is that what you believe, Tom?" called a different voice, a calm and pleasant one.

"Ah, Dumbledore!"

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, appearing next to Crouch. "Surrender yourself, Tom. You are surrounded and outnumbered."

"I think not!" hissed Lord Voldemort. He raised his wand and suddenly the Shield of Scathach flared up swiftly in a brilliant cascade of silver light, swirling flames of bright silver at the edges, rising up fifty feet. A wall of fire was formed with the roaring flames, and the sight of the Aurors and Dumbledore disappeared abruptly behind the shining Shield.

"Now," spoke the Dark Lord as he turned around to face Harry once again. "Where were we? Ah yes, the Potters—"

But though Harry could not see neither the Aurors nor Dumbledore through the Shield, he could still hear the shouts of surprise and yells of astonishment—and he heard Dumbledore speak again. The Headmaster's calm but firm voice pierced through the nearly deafening bellow of the blazing silver fire-wall, seeming as though he were speaking directly into Harry's ear, into everyone's ears: "Then you have forced my hand, Tom. _Fawkes!_"

"_NOW!_" roared Crouch, his voice echoing faintly from beyond the boundaries of the Shield—

Then a powerful scream of challenge swamped the whole street, and a burst of red and gold fire exploded into shape far above Harry's head. Fawkes materialised with a song of triumph and power, a rapid-paced music filling everyone's ears with the rage and vengeance of Light, a beacon of power shining light down at them from the heavens above—

_Fight fire with fire._

—and the Dark Mark _shattered_ apart into a million shards, and a sprinkling rain of sickly green scattered down. Fawkes resounded with a song of jubilation, red and gold flashing fire leaving a trail of brilliant light as he spun and swirled—

_Fire on fire._

—then he dived. Down, down, down, a vigorous song rippling out before him. Swirling flames of gold and red light streamed behind him as he spun down towards the ground. The phoenix sang out a challenge both fierce and compelling.

The Shield of Scathach answered.

_Fire against fire._

Silver met red and gold, billowing fire clashed against the music of the phoenix, and Fawkes disappeared briefly in a cocoon of silver flames.

_Fawkes, no!_ Harry yelled silently. _Voldemort! Take him down! He controls the Shield!_ Snapping out of the daze that came because of everything that had just happened, he jumped into motion.

But then Fawkes reappeared in a brilliant cascade of golden light, an explosion of red luminosity that flared intensely against the silver vines of fire that threatened to engulf him—

And Harry yelled at Lord Voldemort, who appeared to be solely concentrated on the phoenix above, "_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

Green light flashed, and Lord Voldemort spun out of the way just before the Killing Curse struck, and Harry watched as the Dark Lord swung around to face him. "_Harry Potter!_" hissed Lord Voldemort harshly. "How _dare_—?"

_BANG!_

The ground far, far away turned up in a column of dirt that for an instant froze, seemingly floating like a stormy cloud—then debris rained down just as blue-tinged shields began to spring up around the civilians cowering on the ground. Red-robed Aurors began pouring out of the hole with roars of rage, and Death Eaters spaced throughout the street began to attack. Civilians closest to the hole were being dragged in and Summoned to safety—

—and Fawkes's vigorous song of challenge changed sharply in rhythm and tone, jerking everyone's attention to him for an instant, and now a song of jubilation and victory of triumph rose around the street. Everywhere Harry looked he could see red vines of fire entangled with the silver of the Shield of Scathach, and it was weakened enough that Aurors from outside the boundaries began to push through.

"_Potter!_" Lord Voldemort screamed in fury, and Harry dived desperately out of the way as a spell tore out from the Dark Lord's wand and raced across the intervening space between them—

Then Dumbledore appeared, and a storm of his magic _slammed_ into Lord Voldemort, who barely managed to turn the incoming force away—then the two were duelling fiercely. Lights of colour and power, roaring and shattering of sound, explosions and screams as Light met Dark, and Dark met Light; air turned to fire turned to ice turned to light turned to dark—storms of silver and red and gold and green.

Harry rolled back onto his feet wearily—and swiftly dodged to the side, swinging around as a spell raced past where he had just stood; there before him was Peter Pettigrew, his teeth bared in a silent snarl. "_Wormtail!_"

"_Avada Kedavra!_" snarled Wormtail, and Harry dodged to the left as he struck out his own spell. _Sectumsempra!_

Wormtail avoided that curse and pulled his wand back as though about to strike Harry with another spell—

Then James appeared with a bellow of fury, "Round two, Pettigrew! _Pulsus Flamma!_" An explosion of fire shot out from James's wand, and Harry could only watch as the two former friends fought and duelled.

Harry spun around, losing sight of his father as another Death Eater stepped forth and cast curse after curse at him, and he barely managed in his haste to slap them away—before Moody appeared out of nowhere and came down at that Death Eater, the two dueling fiercely as they dodged and cursed and struck spell after spell. Harry thought he heard the Auror growl distantly, "_Rosier!_"

Everywhere Harry turned he could see blue shields protecting the civilians, maintained by the dozen or so Aurors on brooms. There was a constant movement as the bystanders crawled over to the hole in the ground, which had a ring of Aurors around it protecting the escape route from Death Eaters.

Then Lord Voldemort was suddenly before Harry again and Dumbledore was behind him. The Dark Lord's wand was quickly pointed directly at Harry's chest and the man hissed, "_Avada Kedavra!_" But Harry's legs were forcefully pulled out from under him—courtesy of Dumbledore, he knew—and the Killing Curse flew over his head. "_DUMBLEDORE!_"

_Fuck!_ Harry rolled away from Lord Voldemort and attempted to stand, just barely managing to raise a shield when a Dark spell exploded out from the Dark Lord's wand and slammed into it. _Bloody hell! _Harry spun away, just as Dumbledore raised his wand and a powerful spell exploded out at Lord Voldemort, the force emanating from the spell so great that Harry could feel its power pressing against him—

—and Lord Voldemort swung his wand out before him in a grand gesture, flinging out his magic, and _slapped_ the spell away towards Harry. _Bloody hell!_ thought Harry._ Fuck!_

Drawing on all his strength, he silently screamed the most powerful shielding spell he knew. _Tego Texi Tectum! _Dumbledore's curse crashed into the half-formed Golden Shield with a force that lifted Harry off his feet even though his Golden Shield held—or at least it seemed to hold for two seconds, before it collapsed under Dumbledore's spell. Harry screamed out in pain as the remnant shards _slammed_ into him. It was as though his whole body were seized inside a mighty grip and shaken. He could feel the reverberating vibrations deep within his bones, could feel the ache in his teeth, could feel his blood rush to his head—

The pain ended, and he could do nothing but moan with agony on the ground. _Oh, Merlin. Ow._ He forced his eyes open, and found Lord Voldemort's back facing him, Dumbledore casting another spell at the Dark Lord. _Now's my chance_, he thought wearily."_Avada Kedavra!_" hissed Harry again from the ground, pointing directly at Lord Voldemort, and a green flash of light raced swiftly towards the Dark Lord—

Then Lord Voldemort swirled around with a swish of his robes and the green light flashed past him towards Dumbledore, who had been standing just opposite him. _Fuck! No!_ cursed Harry silently as he sprang up—then realised belatedly that the spell Dumbledore had just cast at Lord Voldemort was now heading towards _him_. _Bloody fucking hell!_

Harry dived away desperately—_I do not want to get hit by another spell from Dumbledore!_—wincing as his left shoulder throbbed in spikes of agony once again, and rolled back onto his feet; just as Dumbledore's spell imploded where he had just been moments ago, and the recoil of power slammed into his back, making him fly. _Blast it!_

"ENOUGH!" screamed Lord Voldemort. "YOU WILL DIE, POTTER! IT WILL SOON BE MIDNIGHT! AND NO MATTER WHAT DUMBLEDORE DOES, YOU—WILL—_DIE!_"

Harry fought against the shudder that threatened to spread through his body, and jumped back onto his feet, his breathing harsh and erratic.

"_Master!_" yelled a voice. Harry swung towards the voice, and saw that it was Wormtail. "I've got him, my Lord!" James was bound tightly and magically gagged, lying helplessly by Wormtail's feet. _No! No! NO!_

"Harry Potter!" hissed Lord Voldemort harshly. "Your father will die for your impertinence! _AVADA_—"

Time slowed. Several things happened at once.

Harry roared with fury as he jumped and dived in the way of Lord Voldemort's aim. Wormtail jumped back, apparently surprised by Harry's bold move. Dumbledore summoned James towards himself—but James was moving way too slowly if he wanted to avoid the Killing Curse.

"—_KEDAVRA!_"

_NO!_ screamed Harry as he turned midair to face the green light flaring out slowly from the Dark Lord's wand. Without thought his wand rose up and pointed at Lord Voldemort—the Killing Curse loomed directly ahead—_ERRADICO SEPARTE_—he could distantly hear the rush of wind, the wind of death—_ERRADICO SEPARTE_—green, green, green—ERRADICO SEPARTE—

_Death, death, death…_

… HARRY! NOT HARRY! PLEASE NOT HARRY!

_Nothing. Nothing. Nothing_…

… NOOOOOOOOO!

_Agony. Pain. Scream. Scream. Scream…_

… TAKE ME INSTEAD! NOT HARRY!

_Why, why, why… why…_

… Death is but the next great adventure…

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—_AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_"

A weak woman's voice. _I hope he looks like his papa_. _He… he's to be named Tom for his father, and Marvolo for my father. Tom Marvolo Riddle_. A feeble voice, a different woman's. _You're a funny boy. Odd. _A boy's voice, whispered. _I knew I was different. I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something_. A teen's voice, cold and harsh. _Don't you remember me, Father? It's me, Tom Riddle, your wizard son. Mother named me after you_. A young man's voice. _What I don't understand, though—just out of curiosity—I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number?_ An older voice, slightly higher, and colder than ever. _I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place… Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies…_ _I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed_. A harsh voice, colder than ice. _I am Lord Voldemort. Avada Kedavra!_

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT. TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE.

_AVADA KEDAVRA_.

No, whispered a voice from the farthest and deepest corner of his mind. No. I am Harry Potter. I am Harry Potter.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.

_AVADA KEDAVRA._

No, insisted the voice. No. I am Harry. Harry James Potter.

LORD VOLDEMORT.

_No!_ I am Harry Potter.

_AVADA KEDAVRA._

VOLDEMORT.

_Harry Potter_.

VOLDEMORT!

_HARRY JAMES POTTER!_

"NOW! Fawkes, do it _NOW!_"

I am Harry James Potter, confirmed the voice with a tone of satisfaction. I am Harry James Potter.

_I am Harry James Potter!_

Yes, agreed the voice. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.

"No, no, you're right… too damaged…."

_What happened?_ thought Harry tiredly. _What's going on?_

I am Harry Potter.

"Yes, at least for a while… Merlin, Fawkes… thought we were…."

_I hurt. I hurt. My head feels like I've just stuffed something in that doesn't belong there._

"Where is he? Can't… him?... There! Quick, Fawkes! Heal me!"

A song. So beautiful. _I want to cry. Why do I want to cry? I want to cry_.

Drop, drop, drop….

_Rain? Why is there rain? Rain on me? Me?_

I am Harry James Potter.

"I remember how woozy I was after getting hit with the Killing Curse. Harry, you all right there? Come on, open your eyes for me. Harry?"

Sleep. Unconciousness. It pulled. It tugged. Sleep.

"No, Harry, you can't sleep now. Wake up, Harry. For me. Wake up, come on! You can do this! Just open your eyes. On three, okay? One, two, three—_open!_"

Harry's eyes snapped open. It took a second before he could force his eyes to focus, and they finally snapped into place. He looked up at the person standing above him—

—and saw _himself_. It was as though he were looking into a mirror. The mirror version of him smirked. "Welcome back, Harry. You've just been healed by Fawkes, so you should physically be fine. Your head hurt, still?"

Harry slowly shook his head. No.

"Good," said his mirror image firmly. "Now, you're no doubt wondering who I am. I'm you. At least, a seven-day older version of you."

Oh.

His mirror image grinned. "Yeah, I remember feeling that when my future self told me. Now, do you think you can stand? We really need to wrap this up. Come on, stand on three again. I'll help you. Ready? Good. One, two, _three!_"

With the help of his now-revealed future self, Harry stood unsteadily on rather jelly-like legs. "W-what's going on?" he asked wearily. "What the hell happened?"

"You destroyed Voldemort's hand, including the Potter signet ring, with your _Erradico Separte_. The Horcrux-connection between him and the ring snapped—and get this—just as the Killing Curse hit you. Or me, depending on how we look at it."

Harry groaned. "Don't tell me. I'm a Horcrux again."

"Yep," his future self confirmed, nodding.

"Bloody fucking hell," muttered Harry in reply. His future self only shook his head.

"Don't worry about it," said the other. "Voldemort's gone for a bit. The Killing Curse rebounded off you again and hit him. Apparently the splitting of his soul weakened him temporarily enough that he _poofed_ and went spirit."

There was a brief moment of silence as the two walked slowly through the many bodies littering the ground. It seemed as though everyone was unconscious. In fact, even Dumbledore was out of it. "What happened?"

The other only grinned in reply. "What do you think happened? We did."

"No, I meant to them," muttered Harry wearily.

"I know," said his future. "And I mean it. We did. Or at least in their case, _I_ happened. Knocked them all out, I did."

"Why?"

"Monosyllabic, I see. Nah, don't worry. I know how tired you are—since I was just as tired myself seven days ago." His future led them through the myriad of bodies, appearing to know his course exactly. "I've cleared their memories—with the help of Fawkes, of course. Can't have them remembering, now can we? We really can't afford it. Actually, Fawkes did most of it. I just lent him some power."

"Oh," said Harry, blinking.

"Yeah, exactly," said the other. Suddenly they stopped, and Harry realised that they were standing right in front of their parents. "Now this is where I leave you. Here, take this." His future passed an object into Harry's hand.

It was a Time-Turner. _Well, that explains the seven-day future part, I guess. I wonder how I got hold of it though, since it _is _illegal and very tightly controlled—_

"Seven turns," interrupted his future.

"What?"

"Seven turns," the other slowly repeated. "Got that? Only seven. No more, no less. And you can't change anything. Well, not anything drastic. That is, everything today _has_ to happen, got that? Good. Now, you do need to change a few things—but you'll see what I mean when the time comes." Harry's future self was rummaging through his pockets, apparently looking for something. "Aha! Found it!" He held up a vial full of some potion. "Shrinking potion—de-aging, if you will. Only temporary though. Fuck Voldemort for actually doing a proper job of something, for once. We'll be eighteen for a while, Harry," he explained when Harry gave him a questioning look, "and this potion is the only way to get rid of any suspicions. Should last eight to twelve hours, hopefully." With a grimace at the potion, he raised it to his lips. "Cheers." He upturned the vial and swallowed the whole of it as quickly as possible. "Bah! At least it tastes better than it smells. Gah!"

"Um," said Harry intelligently. His brain just wasn't working too well yet.

His future self began to shrink before his very eyes, his hair disappearing and all his limbs shortening. It looked like a far more pleasant process than what he had felt when he had been so harshly aged up. At least, Harry's future self wasn't complaining at all. When the shrinking finally seemed to stop, Harry stooped over stiffly and gently lifted up a baby version of himself.

"Numbin' pothions," explained the baby after a moment. Harry was surprised for a moment when his future self answered the question he was just wondering silently, but then realised how stupid that was. _Of course he knows what I'm thinking. He's me._

I am Harry James Potter.

"Tha' should happen for a while," said the baby. "Flashbah's too." _Flashbacks. Of course, my soul's just been merged with Voldemort's. Of course_.

"Now, wemember the rules," said the baby sternly. Harry hid a grin at the sight. "Oh, and I betta' give you a hint: the Weasleys weren't owiginally par' of the Order. Now, go!" The baby pointed towards their parents, and Harry stiffly but gently lowered his future self to them. _I'm so tired_. The baby crawled into Lily's arms, and wiggled himself deeper into her embrace. Green eyes pinned down Harry's, and the baby spoke one last time. "Go."

Harry nodded, then turned to give Diagon Alley one last look. It was in an utter chaotic mess.

_Merlin. I am Harry James Potter_.

He refused to consider that there might have been an echo somewhere in the back of his mind that had hissed in reply, _I am Lord Voldemort_.

Taking a deep breath, Harry spun the Time-Turner, and was gone.

_I am Harry James Potter.

* * *

_

**_To be continued…._**

**_Chapter Eight: _Now the Night Is Over, Full Circle** _will be updated soon. But reviews really encourage me to write! So take the hint and _review!_ A simple, "Wonderful!" or a "Love it!" will do! Even simple messages like that inspire authors to write more!

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**Ending Notes:**

Thus ends this arc of action; thus ends the climax. Thus ends the first rise of Lord Voldemort; and thus is Harry James Potter marked as the Chosen One, marked at the stroke of midnight as prophesied by Trelawney. Thus is Harry's soul merged once again with a piece of Riddle's, and thus the plot thickens….

Seven days. To the past. The Weasleys weren't originally part of the Order during LV's first rise. What happened then? How will Harry make the Order accept them? What other changes must Harry make? How in the world does Harry get his hands on a Time Turner? How long will the Devil's Herb last? All will be answered soon.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It was very difficult to write. Very. Like. Like. Like. _Very_. Oh, and I've also had a very… unpleasant time between my last update and this one. Events include my getting horribly sick for days, flight plans getting messed up a bit, getting a small-time summer job, and a myriad of other things. But I'll manage, I hope. This chapter…. Bah! I just hope it turned out as well as I think it has.

Well, that's about it for now. I'm very tired, still recovering from my sickness. Oh, I do have a **timeline** of Harry's past up on my LJ. It details what happened between Dumbledore's death and the prologue. It gives a **brief overview** of the last two years. It should give you a feel for how desperate Harry and McGonagall really were at the prologue.

Hmm. Oh. Before I forget. One reviewer mentioned (or possibly two or three, I can't remember) that my story has a tone like that of **Lightning on the Wave's**—and I must say, I'm both flattered and annoyed that you would think so. Lightning is an amazing, absolutely _brilliant_ author, and I must admit that her series is what inspired me to take up writing again. But, she is not the first to write about sacrifices and wandless magic, nor will she be the last. She is not the first to define Light and Dark magic, nor will she be the last. While I am a very avid fan of her stories, please do not insult me by saying I've stolen ideas from her fic. I very much disagree with anyone who says that. Perhaps elements from hers and my story may be similar—yet with possibly hundreds of thousands of fanfics out there, it's quite impossible to hit upon a completely original idea. Someone, I distinctly remember, said that since Lightning wrote about major magical events happening on "special" days such as Halloween and what-not, the fact that I've apparently done the same means I'm stealing the idea from her. Umm… no. She is _definitely_ not the first to write about major magical events happening on so-called special days. I can think of a half-dozen fics that have similar themes written _before_ her series. And no, I am definitely not stealing said idea from her. Yeah.

Well. That was a longer rant than I'd thought it would be. Bah! Lightning is amazing, and I'd buy her stories if I could. But… yeah….

**FWG Contest Entry Fic**:** I've written a very short fic that'll go into the Future Writer's Guild: Summer Horcrux Challenge. Check it out!**

Read the "_To be continued…."_ section for the date of the next upload. Happy **_reviewing!_**

Comments always welcome.

_-- liath_

_(7.04.06)  
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**ATTENTION--NOT A NEW CHAPTER:** I made a mistake, everyone! It wasn't a new chapter! Sorry! I was simply changing old chapters for revised ones, but messed up in the process! Sorry again for the false alert! However, I do have half of the next chapter posted on my LJ. Sorry again, really!


	11. CH08: Now the Night Is Over, Part I

* * *

**_Chapter Eight:_ Now the Night Is Over, Full Circle (Part I)**

_by Taliath_

* * *

The world spun. The Time-Turner revolved once. His stomach twisted with his swirling vision. Harry shut his eyes tightly, fighting against the urge to throw up. 

The world spun. The powerful artifact refused to whirl around any faster. It was like winding up something that resisted his every push.

The world spun. He was falling backwards through time. It hurt. He felt bile at the back of his throat. His eyes watered. His head was dizzy with nausea.

The world spun. He threw up. He couldn't help it.

And spun. He wondered what would happen to the bile that he had just spewed. Perhaps it would suddenly appear in the middle of nowhere? He couldn't help but choke with laughter, and briefly felt disturbed when he couldn't hear himself laugh. It was as though he were in a vacuum. A bubble outside of reality. And in a way, he supposed he was—a bubble outside the regular stream of time.

Spun. How many times had he turned it already? He didn't remember…. He knew he was supposed to spin it seven times. Should he turn it once more? Harry sighed—and felt disturbed once again because he couldn't hear himself—and thought that it was just like him to forget to keep track. Making a decision, he spun the Time-Turner once more.

The falling sensation grew worse. Harry held in a moan of pain as his stomach attempted to heave once more, and cursed mentally at himself for sending himself back in time. What kind of stupid idea was it anyway? But the self-loathing lasted only for a split second, for the next moment another thought occupied his mind. It was a rather troublesome thought: how many times had he spun it already? Six? Seven? Perhaps less? Harry didn't know. And he only had a split second more to decide. Spin, or not? Spin? Or not?

He would spin it, he decided, and attempted to twist the Time-Turner once more—

And the world shattered.

The sensation of falling backwards, of being hurdled through time stopped instantly—the backlash made him want to spew out his insides once more. Blood rushed to his head, making him nearly faint from the pounding migraine that suddenly came with the blood.

Sharp pain stung his hands, and Harry—his eyes watery—glanced down and saw with horror that his hands were blistered and coloured an angry red.

And his hands were bloody.

Harry realised with horror that the Time-Turner had shattered. It had exploded, and now pieces of glass were embedded into his hands.

And it _hurt_.

Then sound returned to his deafened ears, and Harry gasped with pain as his ears grew accustomed to noise once again. He felt very disoriented and the next moment found himself on the ground, cradling his head as dizziness swamped him once more, his shaking legs unable to hold his weight.

Distantly he heard commotion and struggled to clear his mind of the dizziness, attempting to look up—but it was surprisingly difficult. In fact, he couldn't even react when he felt someone, or perhaps even more than one, grab him and lift him up. Harry groaned. Someone shouted in his ear, and it sounded suspiciously like a cry for help.

The next moment, he felt magic wash over him, and once more sound disappeared—and instead a feeling of being seized and forced down a tight tunnel enveloped him for a second.

_Someone's Apparating me_, Harry thought a moment before his exhaustion and pain and disorientation became too great to handle, and his consciousness fled blissfully into the unknown.

* * *

Harry dreamed. 

_He was standing before a mansion. It was daytime. The house was magnificent, richly decorated, and very clean. It clearly housed someone of wealth._

_Harry walked closer and stopped just by the fence, peering in closely, his ears listening attentively. But he saw nothing move within the house—for the windows showed only empty rooms, empty of people. He heard nothing but the breeze of the wind whispering as it combed through the carefully kept front lawn and the gardens with perfectly trimmed bushes and flowering beds._

_Then he heard something; he heard someone approaching. He moved away as quickly as he dared, for fear of alerting anyone to his sudden movements._

_From around the corner came out a middle-aged man, obviously the gardener by the look of him, who limped across the lawn. Harry paused. He had seen this man before. He was sure he had. But where?_

_Harry would have liked to stay and observe the gardener, but the man was scowling at him so suspiciously—and Harry didn't want to irritate the man enough for him to do something about it—that he quickly walked away, down the empty road, which seemed to lead nowhere. A stray thought entered his mind: _filthy Muggle

_Harry blinked, and jerked back in alarm. The sun had abruptly jumped position. It now hung low in the sky, at an angle that hurt his eyes. It was nearing night. He guessed it was about six in the evening, the time between full day and full night._

_He shivered as a dark and foreboding feeling washed over him._

_He moved forward, as though compelled, and frowned as he approached that same mansion. He was certain he had been moving in the opposite direction just moments ago. He shrugged, and moved forward._

_The fence opened silently as he approached, and Harry's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He continued walking until he nearly reached the front door—but was distracted when he heard someone in the house speak, the voice sounding female. "Dinner is ready, sirs, madam."_

"_Excellent, excellent," spoke a man, his voice thick with arrogance. "Come, Tom, dinner is ready, didn't you hear?"_

"_Really, Father," replied another voice with slight irritation. "I am not deaf."_

"_Oh, Tommy," said a different woman. "No need to get upset. I shan't tolerate it."_

_Harry approached the nearest window curiously, glancing around once to make sure that the gardener wasn't around, and peered carefully over the windowsill. There were three inside: an older couple and a middle-aged man. Clearly, they were family._

_Suddenly Harry felt rage like he had never felt before. It was a red-hot anger that burned inside of him, twisting his every nerve. It clouded over his eyes, and every thread of rational thought disappeared behind the fury of his emotions._

_He swiftly turned towards the front door—which opened silently at a twitch of his will—and stepped inside quickly, barely acknowledging the fact that the door closed just as silently behind him._

_He was _angry

_Harry stepped into the dining room, his face twisted with his rage. _AVADA KEDAVRA.

_Green light flashed. Harry hadn't even realised he had had his wand out before him. Oh well, thought Harry dismissively. The old woman died just as the light touched her. There was no scream, no jerk of pain or anything. The spell was death and had claimed her._

AVADA KEDAVRA. _Another flash. Another death. The older man this time._

_Harry spoke, hissing though his teeth in utter fury. "Hello, Father." Oh, how he had always dreamed of this moment! To meet his father. Sure, he had at first thought his father was a pureblooded wizard. Sure, it had disappointed him greatly to learn that his father was a filthy Muggle. But no, what made this moment so incredibly special was the fact that he could finally look at the man who had abandoned his mother, who had abandoned _him_, and tell him exactly what he thought of the man. "Don't you remember me, Father?"_

_His father was too stunned and frightened to speak._

"_It's me, Tom Riddle, your wizard son. Mother named me after you."_

_The man still did not speak. All the better. Harry smiled, and relished the sight of his father's terrified face. He felt joy at the sight of his grandparents' dead bodies. Their frightened faces, frozen in their abrupt deaths. He felt the rush of exhilaration that came with casting such powerful Dark magic. He felt the tingling of his nerves as adrenaline pumped into his veins. He felt the vicious and savage happiness that washed over him. The feeling of pure power within his hands gave him the most pleasure._

_He raised his wand. Death whispered as a rush of wind and light._

* * *

Harry woke up with a start. It took a second before he recognised where he was—a room in Leaky Cauldron—and slowly relaxed his grip on his wand. This was the third time he had had a nightmare like this; these dreams were completely different from the ones he had had before his time-travel. Those nightmares had been about the second war, the war he had lost. These nightmares were different—dreams of Voldemort's life. 

Harry shakily drew off his bed covers and made his way over to the bathroom, splashing cold water onto his face. He leaned his forehead against the mirror hanging above the sink, and closed his eyes.

His future had been right on all counts. Ever since his soul had merged with that fragment from the Dark Lord, he had been having reoccurring dreams of the man's life. The dreams weren't at all chronological, however. Just the other night, he had been dreaming of Tom Riddle's murder of Hepzibah Smith. It was rather disturbing—especially as he had felt all of Riddle's emotions at the time of the murder. The relish of killing another. Harry was rather worried as to how much the merge would affect his personality, his psyche. After all, possessing Riddle's memories couldn't exactly be healthy, right?

It also wasn't easy to deal with, he was quickly realising. It jarred him every time he woke up from these dreams. It was as though he were a pendulum, his morals swinging from one direction to the other, from one side to its polar opposite.

One moment he was laughing at the deaths of others, the next he was horrified. His mind was a complete mess of conflicting emotions. It was… unpleasant.

_Tempus_, thought Harry, casting a non-verbal spell to find out the time.

_5:56_, responded the spell.

_Good_, Harry reflected, _it's not too early to wake up completely, then_. He had a full day ahead of him, he knew. He quickly stripped and set the temperature of the water before he eased himself into the shower—trying without success to dismiss the dreams from his thoughts.

Harry even had a theory as to why the merging with Voldemort was affecting him so much now, when it didn't when he was younger. After all, he had been made a Horcrux when he was a baby before, why hadn't it affected him then? Why didn't he have Voldemort's memories?

It was, he thought, because of his adult mind. When he had been a baby, he had probably been unable to handle the plethora of memories, and had most likely shoved it away in the corner of his mind—where it had probably remained the whole of his short life, locked away and forgotten. But this time Harry had been mentally eighteen, and thus the incoming memories had met a structured mind that could break down the flow and carefully integrate with the new memories.

At least, that was what Harry thought. And he had never been much of a theorist. He relied mostly on Hermione for those sorts of things.

Harry shut off the water and towelled himself dry before he exited the bathroom. He felt more fresh and awake now. He quickly dressed himself in the same robes he had worn since he had arrived, casting a few spells to transfigure them to look like something different. He would see if Tom was awake. If he was, then Harry would get his breakfast. He had already learned that in his current weakened state, a full breakfast was definitely needed to keep up his strength.

Two nights and a day had passed by since Harry had arrived back in time. He had jerked awake the first time in St. Mungo's Hospital, and had been forced to run away when a Healer had come asking for details and explanations for his injuries—severe damage to the hands, magical and physical exhaustion, and what seemed to be magical head trauma. The escape had been fairly difficult, as he had still been exhausted—but with all his injuries healed by Fawkes and by the Healers, all Harry had had to deal with had been the weariness. That, though, had been easily handled by a stolen Pepper-Up Potion.

His impromptu runaway had been pretty easy after that. Harry doubted many wizards had tried to run away from the hospital before, and so there had really been no trouble in slipping out unseen. If there was such a list as "The Least Expected Actions from Injured Patients," _running away_ would probably have been at the top of the list, the most unexpected action anticipated from injured patients. He had at first been rather concerned that his facial features would be firmly in the minds of the Healers, and easy for inquiries to be made for him—but that had disappeared after his shock with the mirror in a Muggle public toilet an hour later.

He had just been walking into a Muggle restroom, when he had turned to glance at the mirror out of the corner of his eye, and had literally jumped up with a start when he had seen the face peering wide-eyed back at him.

It had been the face of Tom Riddle.

Harry had been able to deduce—once he had calmed down enough to think rationally—that his Metamorphmagus abilities must have kicked in during one of his vivid nightmare-memories, and had turned his features to that of the younger Riddle. Ever since that point, he had been wearing a face that was a mixed blend between his own and Riddle's.

It felt rather strange to be wearing Riddle's face—even if it was only half-mixed version of it—but the thought of how furious the Dark Lord would be if he ever found out was enough to convince Harry to keep it.

"Good heavens, you're awake early!" exclaimed Tom, the bartender. "Will you be wanting breakfast, then?"

"Please," said Harry, nodding. "Whatever your usual is."

"Of course," said Tom, giving his trademark toothless grin. "Will you be wanting a drink beforehand?"

"Just water, if you will," he replied absentmindedly.

"Certainly. Coming right up."

The man finally moved away, and Harry relaxed at a corner table. He had escaped from St. Mungo's to find that he had arrived from the future at around ten the night before, and had been recuperating unconsciously for nearly twenty hours. By the time he had escaped, it had already been nearing midnight, and Harry had taken refuge in Leaky Cauldron, asking Tom to put any and all costs on his tab. Of course, Harry didn't actually have any money on him to pay his tab—but he had been too tired to care.

And that would be his first order of business. To get his hands on some money. It wouldn't be too difficult, he hoped. The goblins were known for being tight-lipped, after all; even Sirius had managed to buy a Firebolt using money from his account without the Ministry ever finding out.

The next order would be to get his hands on another Time-Turner, to replace the one that had shattered. He wasn't exactly sure how he would do this. He had decided during some of his rare moments of clarity while escaping that he would at first try the underground market in Knockturn Alley—but if that didn't work, he just might have to raid the Department of Mysteries. It was not a prospect he enjoyed thinking about. He doubted if he could even pull it off. The only successful raid of the Department had been with Luna's help—and that had been with her guiding their every step.

"Breakfast, sir," Tom said, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "Shall I refill your cup of water?"

Harry nodded, and the man left after waving his wand to refill the cup. _Well_, he thought as he slowly began to eat, _if it turns out I have to go into the Department of Mysteries, then I'll just have to deal with it._ After all, he'd have to pass on the Time-Turner to his past self in six days.

He pushed the thought out of his mind and continued to plan out the rest of his day. The third on his list of things to do would be to find out how long the Devil's Herb lasted. His future self had implied that the Aging Potion lasted quite a long period of time—but exactly how long was something Harry really wanted to know. A week? Two weeks? Heaven forbid, a month?

The last would be to find a way to get the Weasleys involved with the Order of the Phoenix. This, Harry knew, would be the most difficult of all. How in the world would he be able to do it? He wasn't quite sure. And he had less than five days to do it—five, because the Weasleys had been at the Order meeting the night before Harry had time-travelled.

_Well_, thought Harry, _no one said this would be easy_. He quickly wolfed down the last few bites of his breakfast. _I'll just have to adapt, like I always do_.

"Put it on my tab, Tom," Harry called out as he stood swiftly. He had business to attend to, and his dawdling would not help at all.

* * *

Gringotts loomed ahead. Harry kept careful track of the people around him as he approached his target, his eyes darting to and fro from one early-morning shopper to another, and tried to keep memories of that terrible Halloween night from surfacing. It had taken place right where he was standing now, he knew. It was a disturbing thought. 

The bank was nigh empty when he entered, and Harry mentally nodded with satisfaction. All the better. He swiftly approached one of the booths and nodded coolly to the banker before him.

"I find myself without a key to my vault—perhaps I lost it somewhere within the mess I call my home," lied Harry smoothly, adopting the persona of a rich fool, too arrogant by far, and beyond naïve and inexperienced. "May I request assistance in this matter? Who must I see to rectify this silly error?"

The goblin didn't seem to care much at all for Harry's words, and simply barked—without even turning his head, nearly making Harry wince as the goblin snapped directly in his direction—"Geral! Assist this man to the Office of Key Restoration."

A smaller goblin jumped to obey the other goblin's orders, and quickly ushered Harry down the main entrance hallways into a side outlet that seemed to lead to a corridor of doors, each labeled as a different bank office. The fourth on the right was the Office of Key Restoration, it seemed, and Geral roughly pushed Harry inside, before slamming the door shut—effectively locking Harry inside, and himself outside.

Harry found out a moment later why the goblin seemed so anxious to drop him off and leave. Before him sat the grumpiest looking goblin in the world—the creature had what seemed to be a perpetual scowl wrinkling his already ugly facial features, and hawk-like eyes that were tiny beads compared to the monstrous size of his head glaring burning holes into Harry.

"_Yes_?" growled the goblin. "What do you want? Speak!"

It took another moment before Harry could talk, and when he found his voice through his disgust, he spoke as lightly as he could, "I would like to restore my key as it seems I have lost—"

"That, sir, is quite obvious," snapped the goblin. Harry resisted the urge to retort back, _Then why did you even bloody ask? _The goblin continued derisively, "This is, after all, the Office of Key Restoration. I am Sperf, and I will be _assisting_ you today."

"A pleasure," murmured Harry, his eyes staring at just below the goblin's nose, where it seemed an extraordinarily long nose-hair was just tickling the goblin's lower lip. It repulsed him. "I am—"

But Sperf barked, "I do not care for your name, _sir_, as it is very much possible that you are lying." In fact, it seemed like the goblin thought Harry _was_ lying, and that it wasn't just a possibility. The goblin opened one of the drawers in his desk, and pulled out a heavily decorated chest. The goblin drew a long finger along the creases where the top half met the bottom, and purple light glimmered before the chest snapped open.

Inside, Harry could see rows of carefully placed elliptical lumps of gold. The goblin motioned impatiently for him to approached, and Harry carefully walked up to the goblin.

"Well? Take one!" snapped the goblin.

With a wary glance at Sperf, Harry carefully reached into the chest and gripped one lump—then tensed as he felt the golden lump begin to shift and twist and turn within his hand. He quickly tried to open his hand—but found that he couldn't. The lump of metal turned hot, and hotter and hotter as moments passed by. He nearly snarled with rage as the goblin watched him with obvious pleasure, but grit his teeth as the lump became ever hotter.

Then it was gone, and Harry's hand snapped open. A golden key flew out of it, and Harry quickly cast a cooling charm on his hand. "Bloody hell!" he cursed.

"Your key," spoke Sperf, and finally his tone changed from one of annoyance and irritation to one of enjoyment. The gobbling held it up to the light. "Your key has been restored."

_No bloody thanks to you_, snarled Harry silently, but he knew not to show his anger any further. It would only feed the goblin's amusement. Snatching the newly restored key, Harry quickly turned to leave, but the goblin spoke once more, forcing him to stop and turn to listen.

"You are lucky. If you had not had a vault here in this bank, you would have lost your hand. Good day, Mr. Potter."

Harry's eyes widened, but the goblin only looked on stoically.

"As per the terms of our contract and your Right of Family Usage, we shall be silent," said the goblin. "You need not worry. Now, _go_."

And Harry did, blinking blankly. _Well_, he thought to himself_, that went… better and worse than I expected_.

It took only a shorter amount of time to reach his family vault. The vault was tied not to a single person, but to the family, Harry knew. Thus, although James Potter controlled it, Harry—as a Potter—still had access to it. This was why the key had been stored.

He touched nothing but the gold in his vault, taking away from it a pouch full of galleons. He knew that if he touched any of his heirlooms, James might get suspicious the next time he arrived here. His father might be compelled to ask the goblins why his heirlooms had been moved around, and then they would have to disclose to him that another Potter had claimed the Right of Family Usage on the Potter vaults—which would not be a good thing.

As it was now, the goblins would keep silent and not inform the dominant Potter controller of Harry's key restoration. It was a part of his Right as a Potter. Harry was grateful for this. Very much so. It would certainly help in the future when he gathered materials to fight Lord Voldemort.

Grinning, Harry walked out of the bank with money in his pockets and turned, after a moment of consideration, to Knockturn Alley. He had business to conduct there; business with a certain owner of Borgin and Burkes.

Things were working out so far as planned.

* * *

"I represent a certain principal who finds it within his interest to look for a certain tool," spoke Harry coolly. He kept tight control of his voice, mediating his tone with great control. It would not do to give an unintentional, but revealing, sign to the other, especially in Knockturn Alley. "A certain tool that may be frowned upon if obtained through ordinary means. Perhaps you would know of a way to retrieve such a tool without such troublesome frowning, Mr. Borgin?" 

"You mistake me, sir," rumbled the man in false humility, his hands spread out before him in clear innocence. "I am simply an innocent collector of items. I know nothing of obtaining frowned-upon materials nor of breaking laws—"

Harry nodded, interrupting smoothly, "Of course, dear sir. I would never dare to accuse you of knowing anything like that. You and my principal are but fellow comrades in this world of rules and regulations, speaking—without malice—of possibilities."

"Perhaps," replied the other man, his eyes intently staring into Harry's. Harry stared back. "And who, may I be so bold to ask, do you represent?"

This time, Harry only smiled. "Dear sir, you—of all people—should know not to ask."

The man's eyes widened. "O-of course." His eyes flickered nervously to the entrance of his store, his hand twitched nearer to his wand, and Harry's smile widened fractionally. The man was frightened. So he should be.

Harry had said, just now, that Mr. Borgin dare not ask who he represented—and Harry knew the man's mind would immediately jump to the only person who would dare this sort of threat against a man of Borgin's power, and expect to live. Yes, Mr. Borgin—Harry was certain—would immediately think Harry spoke on behalf of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Pressing his advantage, Harry lazily pulled out his wand, and with a cool nod at the man, snapped his wand out—and the shutters, which already were half-closed, snapped completely shut; the entrance locked closed; the fire dancing on the hearth, connected to the Floo network, disappeared; green light sparked, and the Dark Mark appeared within the store in a flash of harsh light, power exploding out from it in bursts.

The man standing opposite Harry bowed low after a moment of jaw-slackened astonishment, and murmured with reverence, "And how may I serve Lord—?"

"No," snapped Harry, moving forward to tower over the man. A cloak hood hid the majority of his face from sight, and the robes of dark green that he wore flashed and transfigured into the thick, heavy black robes of Death Eaters. "My principal shall never be named within the hearing of anyone, nor shall this mission ever be uttered without my presence." He waved his wand, and the Dark Mark disappeared. "Do we understand each other, Mr. Borgin?"

"Perfectly, sir," recovered the owner. "And how may I serve you, Mr.—?"

"I shall remain nameless and unknown at this moment. Save for the fact that the power I hold is far greater than your own and that my principal has full knowledge of this mission and approves of it whole-heartedly, you shall know and ask of nothing."

"I understand, sir. And this certain tool you mentioned earlier?"

"Are we safe to speak freely, Mr. Borgin?" The man seemed to bristle with indignation, but Harry did not allow him to speak. "Excellent. Very well then, it is a Time-Turner."

The man's eyes bulged out in surprise. Harry glared stoically. "A T-time-Turner?"

Harry didn't answer, and the man trembled a moment, before drawing himself up once more with a sense of authority. _Ah_, thought Harry with amusement,_ he's deciding to show some backbone_. "I shall look into it, dear sir—however, success may not occur. Time-Turners are controlled completely by the Department of Mysteries—"

"Have I ever," sneered Harry, "asked for excuses, Mr. Borgin? Do I appear to care at all?" He swung around, his robes splaying out beyond him impressively, and studied one of the many Dark artifacts littering the room. "Obtain a Time-Turner, and you shall receive payment."

At the last word, Mr. Borgin's eyes narrowed. This, obviously, he knew how to deal with. "I would expect a hefty price for obtaining such a valuable—"

"And you shall receive it," snarled Harry, keeping his Death Eater persona carefully honed. "Make no mistake, my principal delivers what he has promised."

"Of course, dear sir, I would not dare impugn the integrity of—"

"Excellent." Harry saw a flash of annoyance flit through the man's eyes, and nearly smirked. It was ever so easy to get a rise out of this man. But Harry clearly had the upper hand with Voldemort's support—so Mr. Borgin thought—and thus he knew the man would attempt no treachery. This thought _did_ make Harry grin, so he turned quickly away from the man to hide it. "I shall return in forty-eight hours. I expect results, Mr. Borgin. Is this clear?"

"Two days, sir? Impossible!" babbled the man. "Why, the time it would take to even alert my searchers would take as long—"

"No," snapped Harry, swinging around to face the man again. "Excuses, Mr. Borgin, and I am ever uninterested in them. You shall find a Time-Turner, else you shall be expected to pay the price. You know what I speak of."

Mr. Borgin nodded reluctantly.

"Excellent, dear sir. Then, as a parting word, I shall explain to you the terms of your service. You shall speak of this mission to no one in any form—whether verbally spoken, written in any message, nor spelled into anyone's mind. If _anyone_ were to find out—believe me, Mr. Borgin, you do not want to know the consequences." Harry calmly transfigured his robes back into the dark green that he had worn when he arrived. He drew his wand out before him, and the fire burst back to life in the hearth, the windows opened, and the entrance doors unlocked. "Ah, and as to the payment for your services. It shall be your life, Mr. Borgin. You shall be allowed to keep it."

Harry turned to study the man cowering before him again. It was a strange sight. He knew that Mr. Borgin would never have done this to anyone else, but Voldemort tended to make even the most powerful men cower in fear. _Or_, Harry thought,_ even just Voldemort's name. _Harry had only to use that, and make the man fear him.

Before he left, Harry spoke once more. "I shall bid you a good day, then, Mr. Borgin." He left without looking back, and thought he could hear the man cursing his luck behind him.

Harry hid a grin within the shadow of his hood, and made his way through Knockturn Alley.

* * *

Lunch at Leaky Cauldron was excellent, and Harry finally managed to clear his tab and pay for the expenses of the next five days. He then bought a copy of the Daily Prophet and saw on the front page: 

**The Prewett Brothers Murdered!**

_**You-Know-Who Strikes Again**_

_No wonder_, Harry thought. _No wonder Mrs. Weasley was so emotional during that Order meeting when Minerva and I arrived in the past. Her brothers had just been killed. No wonder_.

He quickly read through the article and felt a strong sense of anger. The brothers were among the greatest wizards within this century, he had heard before. And now they were dead. Sometimes he had to wonder how much things would have changed if so many had not died. What if, he wondered, Grindelwald's war had never happened? What if those thousands of wizards and witches had not died during his reign of terror? What if World War Two had never occurred? What if those hundreds of millions had lived? How much better would this world have been?

Harry finished his lunch with that depressing thought, and wondered for a brief moment what he would be doing the rest of the day. His account had been settled at the bank and also with Mr. Borgin. Hopefully the man would be able to keep his end of the bargain—but it was uncertain. Though Mr. Borgin was truly a powerful man in regards to his vast network, Harry wasn't sure if the man could match the power of the Unspeakables.

And if Mr. Borgin wasn't a match, then Harry would have to be.

But, Harry decided, he wouldn't worry needlessly about it. He _knew_ he would have the Time-Turner by the end of his seven-day journey into the past. It was just a matter of time before an opportunity to obtain a Time-Turner came up. If not through Mr. Borgin, then through something else. Time was continuous, he knew now. It was a forward stream—entangled, yes—but a continuous flow nevertheless. He _would_ get a Time-Turner sooner or later to give to his past self.

And so, pushing that thought out of his mind, Harry finally determined the course of the rest of his day since he had accomplished everything on his To-Do list that could today. He would go shopping for some necessities, first. Clothes, most definitely. It was the second day he was wearing the same ones, and he would appreciate some of the Muggle variety as well. It was rather uncomfortable not to be wearing anything under his robes.

Perhaps he would also visit the bookstore to find, if there was any, information on the Devil's Herb.

He rose and left, lost in his thoughts.

* * *

Hogwarts. So many times during Harry's years at this place had he tried to break out of the school—yet for the first time in his life, Harry was trying to break in. 

It was just before dawn of the fourth day when Harry finally thought of a plan to include the Weasleys in the Order. It was risky, he knew—but ultimately worth it. Perhaps. He wasn't even sure if the process of initiation into the Order was the same as in the future. He had known it fairly intimately in the future, as Harry had been one of the chief recruiters for the Order then. But if the process was different now than it was in the future, he would be in trouble.

Nevertheless, Harry had weighted these concerns, the pros and the cons, and decided to go ahead with this _reckless_ plan—yes, he admitted it freely. The plan was foolhardy and extremely tentative, but what else did he have to go on? He would adapt his plan accordingly if problems arose. He truly hoped none would.

Of course, it had stumped him for quite some time—how _would_ he make his way into Hogwarts, unknown and undetected? The Hogwarts wards would alert the Headmaster of any intruder, able to look through most disillusionment charms and invisibility cloaks. Of course, there _were_ ways to sneak in, Harry knew, and he could already think of a few. But the true trouble would be to sneak into Dumbledore's office—and knowing the old man, Harry knew the Headmaster would have his office nigh impossible to breach.

_Almost_ impossible, Harry had figured out later. It wasn't completely impossible.

And so the first few rays of sunlight found Harry tracking as silently as he could through the Forbidden Forest, multitudes of concealment spells layered all over him to cover both his scent and sight from the animals circling him. He didn't relish the thought of his mission ending abruptly from the claws of a wild creature. No, he did not.

Of course, the concealment spells would be no match against the wards of Hogwarts, but it never even crossed his mind to set them against the wards.

He paused when he arrived at a small clearing and glanced around with searching eyes. Ah, yes, and there it was. The enormous tree that was shaped like the letter Y. And there on the uneven ground, the roots of the tree formed a web encircling a suspiciously empty patch on the forest floor. He had arrived at his destination.

The outer entrance into the Chamber of Secrets.

His eyes narrowed with concentration as he pointed his wand to that empty patch, when a sudden feeling of foreboding washed over him. He froze, knowing that these feelings that appeared in his gut were to be trusted most of the time. There was a certain piece of knowledge fluttering just outside his consciousness, a most important piece of knowledge he knew. But what was it?

Then it slammed home, and Harry nearly kicked himself for being so stupid.

The basilisk! The king of snakes! It was still alive at the moment!

Cursing, Harry frowned as he tried to think up a solution to the problem. Could he try to convince the snake not to attack? Or should he just get rid of it now, and save Voldemort the temptation to use it again?

Harry nodded a moment later. He had decided. He would destroy the snake.

But how?

A moment later, a solution came into his mind, and Harry nearly grinned. It would just be too easy.

* * *

He was wrong. He kept his wand steadily before him, just in case the basilisk decided to strike at him with what remained of his dying strength—and it was a good thing that he had. The snake's tail whipped around with a final strike, forcing Harry to duck and roll out of the way, before the basilisk finally shuddered to a stop. The creature was dead at last. 

"Bloody snake," he cursed, brushing dust and dirt off his cloak. He waved his wand and banished the rooster he had conjured. He really should have remembered this in his second-year; it would have made this so much easier.

Now, it was time to test his theory about Dumbledore's office.

Focusing on a certain phoenix, he cried out, "_Fawkes! I need you!_"

* * *

**_To be continued…._**

_Chapter Eight: _Now the Night Is Over, Full Circle (Part II) _will be updated soon._

* * *

**Ending Notes:**

Sorry for my rather long, extended absence. I have two very good excuses, though : 1) I've been working on another small ficlet, called "**In Light of Silver Memories**" and 2) I've been sick, overworked, worried over college apps, and a multitude of RL things that have kept me away from fanfiction.

Hmm. But a lot of that's done and over with, now, so I can work more on my fics again.

If you have time, please do check out **In Light of Silver Memories**—I've heard good reviews about it.

Here is a timeline between Dumbledore's death and the prologue of my fic.

**1996, May/June**  
--Dumbledore dies

**1996, Summer  
**-- Harry goes to Godric's Hollow  
-- Voldemort steps up the pace, begins to take the Wizengamot apart, striking at its most prominent members  
-- Ministry declares State of Emergency. All ex-Aurors are called back, and the Aurors begin taking in a larger number of young men and women into their program  
-- Hogwarts will remain open, declaration  
-- Kingsley and Moody decide Harry needs training  
-- The Ministry "graciously" offers their best trainers to "prepare the Boy Who Lived." Harry accepts reluctantly.

**1996, Fall**  
-- The Prime Minister of Muggle Britain is assassinated. (Kingsley is murdered.) An attempt also on the life of Minister Scrimgeour. Panic spreads.  
-- LV attacks Hogwarts Express. The train is destroyed. The railroad is obliterated. Children are safe, however, as they were Portkeyed en mass to Hogsmeade.  
-- First Dementor attack on Diagon Alley. Muggle town torn apart by giants, werewolves and vampires.  
-- Harry goes to Grimmauld Place and looks for locket, but does not find it.  
-- anonymous letter warning that Hogsmeade will be raided during students' visit there. Harry's first battle.  
-- the school locked up even more. McGonagall asks Harry to join Order. He accepts.  
-- Halloween: a small Muggle town is spelled shut. Every male, female, adult, child is starved to death. They're cries for help can be heard, but no one can get through the magical wall enclosing the town. All the food is spoiled, and no water. Even after all is dead, the wall was still in place—can't be cleaned up. The stink of dead flesh surrounds the whole area. Thousands have died through this.  
-- Harry's training continue, as does his search for Horcruxes. He decides he needs to kidnap Mungdungus, the Order thief.

**1996, Winter**  
-- with help of Twins, Harry manages to trap Order thief. Gets information, connections to the darker side of the law. Finally knows how to crack Knockturn Alley.  
-- second Diagon Alley raid. This time there is one message LV wants out: "Hand over Potter, or you shall enjoy a very red Christmas." Redblood.  
-- one of Harry's trainer's tries to kidnap Harry. Almost succeeds.  
-- Harry goes to Hogwarts and enjoys some time with his friends.  
-- Ministry on high alert throughout Christmas Day. Then they learn that a whole Muggle city had been poisoned—poisoned with a potion that is undetectable. Harry assumes Snape responsible. Potion forces blood to seep out of skin. Very red Christmas, indeed.

**1997, Winter/Spring  
**-- LV's spies in the Ministry itself begin to cause havoc. Important documents go missing, papers are filed to wrong places. A multitude of small errors here and there causing an overall messiness. Too hidden to be rooted out.  
-- Second anonymous letter to Harry. Warns of the Floo network. LV's gonna try to bring it down.  
-- Harry manages to track down the cup of Hufflepuff. It is located within the Department of Mysteries. Now he needs to find a way to get rid of it.  
-- the Ministry War Council is formed, Harry is "cordially" invited to attend its first meeting by the Minister. Harry accepts.

**1997, late Spring**  
-- The Floo network is destroyed. LV obliterated the core foundation of the network.  
-- One of Ministry's spies located the Riddle Mansion. War Council appoints Auror Moody and a team of one hundred Aurors to raid said location. Harry goes as well. First offensive strike by the Light side—which is victorious. Harry kills Nagini.  
-- LV retaliates the attack by setting Dementors loose in Hogsmeade—while simultaneously allowing Giants to ravage London.

**1997, Summer**  
-- Hermione and Ron are finally finished with Hogwarts. Their parents had forced them to attend. Hermione, however, suspiciously declines Harry's offer to join him on his quest for the Horcruxes. Says she has a very important Order project to work on with McGonagall.  
-- Third anonymous letter. Points out that Pettigrew may know the location of the locket. Harry and Ron, and Ginny, plan a trap for the rat. What does it involve? Not too sure yet.  
-- Neville joins Auror training program.  
-- Luna does to work in the Department of Mysteries. It is she who researches the mysteriously locked door.  
-- July 31, 1997: Lord Voldemort wishes Harry Potter a happy birthday by releasing a magical disease that is very contagious. Makes all Muggles impotent. Basically makes Muggles unable to bear any more children. No cure.  
-- Harry manages to capture Wormtail. Milk him for information. Find out that every memory concerning the locket has been locked away by a powerful Legilimens. Harry can't break it. Obviously LV does not want information to be out.  
-- using information Harry obtained from the rat, the Ministry War Council manages to snag the spies within the Ministry. But too much damage was done. The Ministry is in a complete chaotic mess. Wormtail escapes.  
-- August 4: Minister Scrimgeour is assassinated. Panic and confusion ensues. The War Council takes leadership of the Ministry.  
-- An Order meeting: decision is made. Hogwarts would open its doors as Sanctuary to all who wish safety from Lord Voldemort. Governors be damned.  
-- Muggleborns especially are requested to accept sanctuary. Order members are sent in pairs to all registered families.  
-- Harry deals with the War Council. Aurors will be sent to Hogsmeade and Hogwarts.  
-- Lord Voldemort attacks Hogsmeade with vampires and werewolves as decoy, drawing Aurors to the village. However, he in truth ravages through Diagon Alley a third and final time. Nothing is left standing. Voldemort actually spells Gringotts to collapse in on itself. One message left: "Next is the Ministry, then is Hogwarts." Hagrid beaten to death by giants at Hogsmeade.  
-- fourth anonymous letter. Vampires are disgruntled at being used as cannon fodder—use it to Harry's advantage.

**1997, Fall**  
-- Hogwarts is no longer a school. Traditional classes are no longer held. Instead, everyone is trained.  
-- The War Council is taking Voldemort's warning seriously. The Ministry is being spelled into a magical fortress. Lord Voldemort will have a hard time cracking it.  
-- But nothing is impossible for LV. Five hundred Muggle children under the Imperious march to the Ministry, and the Death Eaters use them as human shields. "Lower your wards, drop your shields, or these children will die slow and painful deaths." No choice. The War Council convenes quickly—nearly everyone wants to drop the shields: after all, can't let children die. Harry disagrees. Children would die anyway—LV would not let them go. And there is no way to save the children. With great reluctance it is decided. The wards protecting the Ministry would stand.  
-- Harry, however, knows it is his fault. He decides to grant the children mercy killing. With Ron and Neville, and Ginny, Harry goes out at night to kill every single Muggle child as gently as possible. However, that is when Harry learns of a great betrayal. Aurthur Weasley was unwilling to allow children to die. The man had sent out an earlier message, asking if LV was really willing to let the children go if the wards were dropped. LV, of course, replied he would. Aurthur Weasley then bargained for the lives of everyone in the Ministry. LV agreed that not everyone would be killed. Not at all—after all, who would be left to be ruled if everyone was slaughtered? The man then lowered the wards.  
-- Harry tried to stop LV's army, sounding the alarms. Big battle happens. Harry and LV fight great duel. LV manages to steal full Prophecy from his mind. Suddenly the Dark Lord retreats, unwilling to fight Harry. But that doesn't matter. The battle is already lost. Everyone who could has already retreated to Hogwarts. Ginny Weasley, however, did not. (she died)  
-- fifth anonymous letter. Reprimands Harry for not contacting the vampires yet, nor the werewolves. Harry finally tries to contact them in desperation. Vampires give Harry the locket—found it in a Muggle pawnshop.  
-- Harry and Ron and Neville leave to meet them. LV lays siege to Hogwarts  
-- Halloween: the Shield of Scathach destroys Hogwarts wards. Seven days of fighting.  
-- Harry arrives, and forces LV to retreat  
-- the dead are given to Vampires  
-- Hermione tells Order that project failed  
-- what's left of the War Council merges with the leaders of the Order. The Executive Committee is formed. Warders and Cursebreakers join in effort to recreate wards of Hogwarts. However, Hogwarts herself is already starting to rebuild the wards. Just need a little help.  
-- Harry reclaims head of DA, and trains younger students. Himself trains with Aurors.  
-- Luna tells Harry that there are things inside the DoM that must not be left in LV's hands. The matter is brought before the Executive Committee. A special task force is formed to spearhead the operation.

**1997, Winter**  
-- This year, there will be no snow due to Dementors running free all across Great Britain.  
--LV has Ministry as his base of operations. A magical fortress. Harry and co break in and retrieve several items. Neville Longbottom does not make it out.  
--LV in revenge sets fire to Hogsmeade (empty of people now) and all the surrounding land. Though wards prevent fire from coming in, all the land for miles surrounding the castle is charred black.  
-- Other countries are beginning to get involved. The fall of the British Ministry of Magic sets off several movements. The International Confederation of Magical Beings convenes and hopes to start an arms race. They have one goal: relieve Hogwarts. Easier said than done.  
--LV's influence has grown. He uses same tactics to incapacitate various governments. Spies misplacing documents, small errors in writing that have disastrous effects. Purebloods joining together, connections made.  
-- sixth anonymous letter. Muggle refugee camp will be raided. Harry organizes teams and squads. First major engagement with LV since Ministry has fallen. Christmas day. Harry manages to gain victory. Forces LV to retreat.  
-- LV in retaliation tracks down Harry's relatives and tortures them to death. Sends their heads to Harry as gifts.

**1998, New Year's/Winter**  
-- now Harry and the Executive Committee begin to plan a war. A series of small strikes here and there to mess up the Death Eaters. Try to undermine LV's influence in other nations. Teams are sent to various foreign governments to ask for aid.  
-- LV moves out to France. Beauxbaton is quickly shut down, and a wave of terror is unleashed upon the nation. Hogwarts becomes even larger as more and more refugees come seeking sanctuary. The Executive Committee has long discussion on whether so many should even be allowed to remain there. McGonagall puts her foot down. No one will be refused Sanctuary—unless proven to be guilty.  
-- seventh anonymous letter: LV is furious at Hogwarts's continued resistance. He is devising plans to destroy them.

**1998, Spring  
**-- Death Eaters are assassinated, one by one. Hogwarts continues to plan small strikes here and there. Nibbles at the great armies of LV—but so many nibbles hurts.  
-- Hermione is killed by Wormtail on one of these raids. Stabs her in the back, when she wasn't looking.  
-- Luna is captured on another. LV sends Harry visions of her being tortured. Harry leads a team that attempts to rescue her—leads them to a gigantic wizard-made lake in the middle of London. A huge pool of bodies, of inferi. Luna is one of them.  
-- Ron is captured at another skirmish. Harry is enraged.  
-- Eighth anonymous letter. Ron was rescued by the author of the letter, he is enclosed. Ron was transfigured into a toy weasel.

**1998, Summer**  
-- LV unleashes a Muggle disease that manages to slip through the wards of Hogwarts. At first no one notices. But soon everyone is infected, people are dying left and right. Magic seems to be of no use. Children especially are dying by dozens every day. There seems to be no hope left.  
-- ninth anonymous letter. Tells Harry that there is a Muggle cure. Harry in desperation goes looking for the Muggle cure. There is one. But he cannot find enough. Painfully, he has to prioritize. Only the most capable Aurors, the Executive Committee are given the cures. Out of the thousands living at Hogwarts, less than a hundred live.  
-- LV lays siege to Hogwarts once again. Daily destroy a little bit more of the wards. Not even survive to put up a good fight. LV knows this. In fact, he leaves the Inner Circle to control the siege, and focuses his attention to other nations.  
-- July 31: the wards finally break. The survivors manage to hold first the entrance hall, then are pressed ever more back until nearly the whole castle is overtaken. Thirty or so are left alive, hidden in the deepest dungeons of Hogwarts.  
-- Minerva tells Harry that they must fight. Hiding away like rats will only demoralize them. Harry agrees. They plan their final push against the enemy—to take down as many as they can before the end.  
-- and so the story ends with Harry and Minerva racing through Hogwarts, the professor subtly directing them towards her office. She is reluctant to tell Harry the real truth, as she believes that no one must know of Project Overlord. Everyone else is killed along the way.  
-- they go back in time. 

Thanks! Happy **_reviewing!_**

Comments always welcome.

_-- liath_

_(11.20.06) _


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